


Beginnings

by WinterHobbit



Series: Captain America: Wakandan Soldier [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Dehumanization, F/M, Historical References, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Original Character(s), Period-typical feelings about mental health, Psychological Trauma, Wakanda (Marvel), Wakandan Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24035383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterHobbit/pseuds/WinterHobbit
Summary: Steve waits for Shuri to wake Bucky up from cyrofreeze in Wakanda, but once Bucky wakes, how does he come to terms with what happened to him? How does Steve? And how do two guys from the Great Depression react to Wakanda?This is the first story in the Captain America: Wakandan Soldier series, and it takes place after Bucky goes to Wakanda but before he travels to the village in Wakanda.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: Captain America: Wakandan Soldier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733806
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. Awakening

Steve stood tensely in the pristine cryofreeze room of the royal Wakandan medical centre as he, Sam, and Natasha waited for the doctors and Shuri to finish their quiet conversation. The walls created a clinical silver-and-glass bubble. Beyond the chamber and visible through the large windows were glowing amber schematics, and the blond-haired man’s ramrod straight posture was reflected in the glass. Steve wondered if the schematics were really part of the machinery or if it were all holographically projected. “It’s okay,” Sam whispered, and Steve nodded stiffly. He was fine, and Bucky was fine; he had to be. Natasha gave him a quick, tight smile as well. 

Steve glanced back at his friend seeming to sleep peacefully in cryofreeze. What if he wasn’t fine? What had HYDRA really done to him, anyway? Steve had yet to understand Shuri’s explanations of what she was doing, and he still couldn’t get over her quiet horror when she’d seen the digital copy she’d made of Bucky’s brain. She said she could fix it, but she asked for permission to change more things than Steve and Bucky had felt comfortable with. Now he felt Natasha studying him, “Shuri knows what she’s doing.” So Natasha was a mind reader.

Steve turned back to looking at the glowy things. HYDRA had turned a good man into a soulless killer. How had they managed?

Shuri talked quietly with a group of doctors, all dressed in white. Steve knew Dr. Jadezweni because he’d been overseeing Bucky in cryofreeze while Steve and the others had taken war dog assignments around the world, chasing down Chitauri tech and other things. He’d also seen Dr. Itobo before, and she was a woman medical doctor, although Steve knew everyone else simply called her a medical doctor and not a woman medical doctor. But now there was another doctor, Dr. Mboya. He didn’t know Dr. Mboya’s specialty but knew it was something important. While Dr. Jadezweni the cryofreeze doctor looked a little on the young side (although not in Shuri’s league), Dr. Mboya the new doctor was comfortably older and hopefully more experienced, and Dr. Itobo the woman doctor was in the middle. Beside Shuri stood Dr. Nyambura Matshikiza, who assisted Shuri with Bucky’s brain. Lots of doctors. That should be reassuring.

“All we’re waiting for is my brother,” Shuri said, and Steve took a deep breath so he could wait patiently. As Shuri’s brother was the king of Wakanda and a busy man, they might be waiting awhile; Steve was just grateful the Wakandans were still helping Bucky, and he wondered when they would overstay their welcome, and how they would find out.

Eventually, T’Challa came striding in with two attendants holding some documents for him to sign. With him strode in a frowning Okoye, leader of the Dora Milaje. Steve’s stomach started doing flip flops the moment the king came in; would Bucky wake up, or would something terrible happen? T’Challa greeted his sister and asked, “Are you ready to wake him up?”

“The long wait was for you to come from the palace,” Shuri crowed. 

“You got all the triggers?” Natasha asked. Steve had been about to ask the same thing.

Shuri smiled serenely, “No, I decided to leave one behind.” She added, “The trigger words are those that physically control his actions the most and are associated with deep emotional trauma; put together a myriad of equations describing different characteristics and how they interact with each other, and you have it.”

It still made no sense to Steve. Were they really depending on equations to get rid of deadly triggers?

Shuri saw Steve’s face and shrugged, “The brain is a complex marvel; I have rooted out the triggers, but we still don’t know exactly how his brain will react.” She paused, “I could do the same with all his traumatic memories.”

“No,” Steve said. He didn’t know much, but he did know this. “He said not to mess with his brain any more than you had to.”

Shuri frowned, unhappy, but she nodded. “It could save him a lot of pain later, but I understand.”

Dr. Mboya nodded, “We’ll use therapy later.”

“What?” Steve asked, frowning at the new doctor. What was this about therapy? 

Dr. Mboya studied him, “He agreed to medicine.”

“Yes,” Steve said, “And that’s all he agreed to.” No loony bins.

“What is your problem with….” Dr. Mboya began.

T’Challa had signed stuff as they talked, and now he interrupted Steve, looking at his sister, “Shall we begin?” He betrayed absolutely no hint of impatience.

“Of course,” Shuri said. She turned to Steve, Sam, and Natasha, “When we wake him up. for the first time in decades, he will be free of the programming. Each human brain reacts in different ways, and recovery will not be in a straight line.”

Steve couldn’t help himself, “But he’ll be all right?” 

Shuri answered seriously instead of sarcastically, “I hope so.” Okoye stood ready by Bucky’s bed, and Shuri made eyes at her. Steve knew that Okoye was unconsciously making sure Bucky was not still the Winter Soldier.

“And we have plans in place to help his recovery,” the new doctor, Dr. Mboya, said.

Shuri nodded at Dr. Jadezweni, who began to wake Bucky up as Dr. Itobo watched carefully. 

Steve had been anxiously waiting for this moment, but now he clenched his hands and felt like he was going to throw up. He felt pressure on his arm and saw that Natasha was reassuring him.

Suddenly, blue eyes looked at Steve, sleepily at first, but then with a growing awareness. Steve realized he wasn’t breathing. so he took a breath, “Hey,” the blond man said. He had planned on letting Bucky set the pace, but he couldn’t stand it. Bucky’s face frowned, and Steve had to fight back tears.

“Welcome back, do you know your name?” Dr. Itobo asked quietly. Steve stopped breathing again.

Bucky thought a long moment, and Steve’s heart pounded. “James Buchanan Barnes.” His voice was quiet, and everyone but Steve had to lean forward to hear it. The sleepy dark-haired man thought another moment and decided he was correct in his assessment of his name, and Steve relaxed slightly.

“Good,” Dr. Itobo said. “You’re safe. Do you know where you are?” Bucky thought another long moment, and then frowned, so the doctor told him, “You’re in Wakanda, and you’re safe.” She pointed to Steve, “Do you know who this man is?”

Bucky blinked, surprised, “Steve?”

Relief flooded every part of Steve’s body. “That’s right buddy, I’m here.” Steve’s legs were jelly.

Bucky’s eyes started to close. “He’ll be sleeping a lot,” Dr. Itobo said, but Steve frowned anyway.

The doctors monitored his vitals, and they stood around watching for a bit. Steve simply watched his friend’s chest rise and fall in ways it hadn’t in cryo. Soon, he heard a rustle and knew T’Challa was leaving. But Steve started when Bucky began to stir again.

Blue eyes opened and blearily looked around the room, blinking every so often to get the sleep out. “Where am I?” The voice was quiet and low.

“You’re fine, you’re safe.” Steve asked, a little concerned because they’d just told him that.

Bucky looked around the room, “Everyone safe?”

“Uh, yeah.” He had no idea who Bucky was referring to, but it sounded promising.

“Did HYDRA get me?” 

“Well….” Steve said, “Actually, it depends on which time you’re talking about, but um, yeah, sort of.” He sighed, looking at the ex-Winter Soldier, “Yes they did.”

Bucky frowned at the people in the room and Steve followed his gaze, seeing that T’Challa and the others had returned because Bucky had woken up. Steve turned back to Bucky to see his friend looking at him. Then the dark-haired man wiggled his toes under the sheet before checking other body parts. Suddenly, his eyes widened horribly.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as the doctors threw him aside and started barking orders and grabbing equipment.

“My arm’s gone!” Bucky said. The doctors froze with their half-grabbed equipment and looked at their patient; the room fell silent.

Steve nosed his way between the doctors, “What do you mean, Buck?” 

Bucky stared at him in absolute horror, “What happened to my arm?” The heart monitor was beating very fast.

“Uh,” Steve said. “Well, you know….”

“It’s gone!” Bucky said, as if this were a new development. He moved the stump experimentally, staring at it with horrified eyes. 

“Well,” Steve said, “I’m sure we’ll get you a new one.” He looked over at T’Challa, who nodded. “See? No problem.” Although how they were going to pay for it…

“Why don’t I have an arm?” Bucky asked.

Steve shrugged, “We’ll get you a better one.”

Bucky looked at him like he was nuts, “A claw is not an arm.”

Steve frowned, “No, I wouldn’t call it a claw, they don’t make those here.” In his peripheral vision, he saw Okoye frowning, and she wasn’t the only one.

Bucky wilted into the bed, ““What am I supposed to do?” Bucky moaned. “I’ll get thrown out of the army; how can I support my sisters?”

Steve froze, “Your sisters?” he asked carefully.

It was Bucky’s turn to freeze, “What’s wrong with my sisters?” Steve just stared at his friend. “Tell me! They’re all right, aren’t they?” The heart monitor increased even more.

Dr. Itobo, stepped up, “Young man, what is the last thing you remember?”

“Forget that!” Bucky said, close to panicking, “What about my sisters?”

“Everything is all right, stay calm,” Dr. Itobo said before eyeing a sedative.

“They’re fine,” Steve lied.

“Then what’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing, I was just surprised.”

“Tell us the last thing you remember,” Dr. Itobo repeated.

Bucky frowned, glancing between Steve and the doctor. “Doing intel.” Everyone looked at Steve, and Bucky continued, “You know, to see if we can flush out Zola. We need to be ready because they’re going to move him soon.”

“Really?” Steve asked, a little dazed. Something was really wrong here.

“You don’t think so?” Bucky asked. “We’ll get him, we just have to be patient.” Steve nodded slowly; this was making no sense. Then Bucky’s face darkened, and Steve’s heart sank, seeing the Winter Soldier, “But I want first crack at him, we have unfinished business.” Steve nodded and said nothing.

Dr. Itobo nodded, “I’d like to ask a few routine questions just to determine the state of your awareness. This is simply routine. What year is it?” 

“1945,” Bucky said calmly, and Steve stared at him. No one said anything, but there was a rustle in the room.


	2. Explanation

Thoughts came and went in Steve’s head as he looked at his best friend in the world, who thought it was 1945. He wished with all his might that it really was 1945 and that all they had to worry about was a world war and mass destruction. Awful but simple. No aliens, no living in the future, no best friend turned into brainwashed, deadly assassin. He had to snap Bucky out of it and he had no idea how. Steve looked around the room for answers, but they were all looking at him. All right then, they’d deal with it somehow.

Bucky looked around, wondering what had suddenly changed. Then he looked at where his arm used to be again.

Steve realized his friend was mourning his arm for the very first time, “I’m really sorry about your arm, but the medicine here is better than you can possibly imagine; I know they will come up with an arm that will be much more advanced than you’re thinking.” Bucky frowned, unconvinced.

“Where am I, anyway?” Bucky asked, he stared at all the people he didn’t recognize. 

“You are in Wakanda,” T’Challa told him.

Bucky looked at him blankly, “Where?”

“It’s in Africa,” Steve said. 

Bucky said nothing, but he looked deeply disappointed. Finally, he mumbled, “How did I get here?” 

Okoye couldn’t stand it, “Wipe that off your face, Sgt. Barnes, Wakanda is….”

“Okoye,” T’Challa said, putting up a hand, “Now is not the time.”

“You know what he’s picturing,” Okoye said, pointing at a puzzled Bucky.

“Let’s let him sleep,” T’Challa said.

“Is that like in North Africa?” Bucky asked, deeply dispirited.

“No, it’s near, uh, Belgian Congo and Ruanda Urundi,” Steve told him, “But it’s more technologically advanced than you’re thinking, and even if it weren’t, it’s a great place; they’re really good people here.”

“And we’ve never been colonized,” Okoye added, folding her arms. Bucky wasn’t impressed.

“Sleep,” T’Challa said, “You have much to process.” He motioned for everyone but the doctors to leave him.

Steve was torn; he needed to stay with Bucky, but he could see there was an argument brewing among the Wakandans.

“Steve,” Bucky said, “my sisters.”

“They’re fine,” Steve lied. 

Steve could hear Okoye outside, and so could Bucky, “Do you know what was going on then? They lynched people because of the color of their skin, and there were race riots, and the so-called European powers had the nerve to plunder and call it ruling…”

Steve looked at the doctors, “Is he going to be all right?” He wanted to ask why Bucky thought it was 1945, but he couldn’t in front of his friend. 

“Yes,” Dr. Itobo said. She sounded like she wasn’t fazed by this new development, so he decided he could wait until Bucky was asleep to ask more.

“Steve,” Bucky said.

“You can’t hide it forever,” Dr. Itobo told Steve quietly.

“Hide what forever?” Bucky asked. “Look at me,” Bucky said, and Steve reluctantly did so, managing to look at Bucky’s face without settling on his eyes. “No, in the eyes,” Bucky said. Steve did. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Steve felt the doctors staring at him behind his back. Bucky pointed to the Wakandan doctors, “What kind of accent is that?” 

“Wakandan, because we’re in Wakanda,” Steve said. That was easy, even though he was troubled because they’d already mentioned that several times.

Bucky pointed to where Okoye had been, “Why is that girl so upset with me?” The room paused in surprise at Okoye being referred to like that. Bucky’s hand fell down, “And most importantly, if there is nothing wrong with my sisters, why did you bring them up in the first place?”

Steve took a deep breath, “Can I talk with him alone?” The others filed out, and Steve pulled a chair of thinly woven, impossibly strong metal closer to Bucky’s bedside. “Bucky, there’s been a problem.”

“Please tell me they’re all right,” Bucky said. “Please. They’re just in the hospital, right? But they’ll be fine. I’ll find a way to take care of them somehow. Becca’s husband will help, right?”

While Steve spoke, he tried to keep looking at his friend but found his gaze slipping off into thin air, “Well, you see, you aren’t remembering everything yet, but you might later. I mean, I’m sure you will, this is just, a little detour that doesn’t mean anything somehow. Anyway, we did find Zola and….”

“But my sisters.”

Steve looked at Bucky before gradually looking away, “I’m getting to that. So we found Zola’s train and you, me, and Gabe went to capture him. Well, all the Howling Commandos did, but the three of us boarded the train. You and I were the distraction and Gabe was supposed to capture Zola, and he did, but some other things happened. So we took some soldiers out, and then one shot at me but I covered with my shield - it’s vibranium you know, isn’t that neat? And here we are in Wakanda - But the blast swept me off my feet, and you picked up my shield to protect me, and the guy shot at you, and the blast swept you outside the train - there was a hole in the side from a previous blast - but you held on and I tried to get to you.” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, but still the images haunted him, “But I wasn’t fast enough and the bar broke and you fell into the icy water way far below, so far down that no one could survive, and I’m so very sorry. I wish I could undo it, and I failed you.” He looked at his friend for forgiveness.

Bucky looked frustrated and scared, “You haven’t told me about my sisters.” This wasn’t going well.

“Right. So about three months later or so, I can’t remember exactly now, things were a blur, I had to put down a ship in the water or everyone was going to die, so I put it down - the Valkyrie, you remember the Valkyrie, you were forced to work on it as a prisoner of war - and that’s the last I remember, too.” Steve looked at Bucky, “So then I woke up and it was the 21st century.” There, he’d said it.

“Fine,” Bucky said, not hearing what he was listening for, “That has nothing to do with my sisters.”

“It’s the 21st century, Bucky, they’re dead.”

“What?” Bucky jerked as if shot, “What? Nooo, no, I just got a letter. They can’t be, please don’t tell me they’re….” Bucky started to cry, trying to hold it in but failing. “No….they can’t, please.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve said, squeezing his hand and rubbing his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nooooo,” he said. “No.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve repeated. Bucky curled into himself.

Steve continued to squeeze his friend’s hand, but he found his own eyes turning red. “All dead, every single person we knew, and everything we ever felt comfortable with or cared about. We’re all alone in a really, really weird world.” Steve suddenly stood up, wiping his eyes before the tears fully formed, “Dang it.” He started pacing and hitting the sides of his legs to keep distracted. He needed to be strong for Bucky. He sat down with Bucky again, but when the tears threatened he stood up again and began pacing. Bucky cried himself to sleep, moaning as he did so, and Steve left, dead tired and overwhelmed.

He found everyone was still in the next room, even T’Challa, and Steve smiled and tried to laugh to hide any tears. “I told him he’s in the future; he’ll be fine.” He sniffed. Everyone but Okoye was looking at him with way too much compassion, and he looked away and pretended to study the nearest glowing schematic, which of course made no sense to him. He shrugged, “I don’t know why I got a little emotional back there.” That was in case he wasn’t hiding it as well as he thought. He tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, so he decided not to do that again.

“Have you fully mourned?” Dr. Mboya asked; he had a kind voice.

“Mourned what?” Steve asked with false cheerfulness. “So what are you guys talking about out here?”

“Have you fully processed being taken from your time?”

Steve froze but quickly shrugged it off, “I didn’t have much then so it’s not a problem. No family, my parents were dead, Bucky’s parents were dead…” Yep, all dead and he was all alone.

“You had friends, your war buddies,” Sam said.

Steve sniffed, “Yes, well, I have new war buddies now.” He nodded again. He was not going to cry; he started tapping his leg again.

“Have you tried to contact any descendants?” Dr. Itobo asked.

“I told you, I didn’t have any,” Steve said, tapping his leg harder and wishing he could leave, but that would be rude. “I haven’t found one of his sisters’ death dates.” It bothered him that he couldn’t find Becca’s, but then he didn’t have the heart to look hard. “But Bucky has descendants, sort of. Bucky never met baby Michael, but now he’s in his 70s and in an independent living home.” Steve smiled sadly, “He’s Becca’s child. Bucky showed that picture to everyone in the unit. Then John got riled up because Bucky was telling everyone that his nephew Michael was the prettiest baby in the world when John felt his baby girl was. Bucky challenged him to a duel with a wet noodle at zero paces, but then they realized that Bucky’s nephew Michael could be the cutest baby boy, and John’s daughter could be the cutest baby girl, and the two kids should marry each other. Bucky and John even exchanged addresses for them to meet. We had it all lined up, but neither made it out of the war alive.” Steve cleared his throat; this wasn’t helping. “Sorry, that wasn’t what you asked.” He tried to clear himself of all the emotions that were being dredged up, “I’ve used geneology.com and some census information to track his family; they have weird names and incomprehensible occupations nowadays. Besides, if I’ve matched people up correctly, Becca’s great-grand-whoever is a gun control activist and crime victim advocate and so might not like Bucky.”

“Do you have pictures from the internet?” Sam suggested softly, “I’ll bet he’d like pictures.” 

“I’m not sure I’ve matched them up correctly, but I might have,” Steve said.

Shuri smiled, “I’d love to help.”

“We can’t contact them while we’re in hiding,” Steve said. “Um, what’s with thinking it’s 1945, anyway?”

“Retrograde amnesia, when the newest memories or the newest memories surrounding an event cannot be recalled. It’s probably temporary, or more unlikely, it could be permanent, and it may have a neurological or a psychological basis.” Dr. Itobo said, and Steve looked at her blankly. “Meaning either due to brain damage or psychological trauma. He’s suffered both, but we saw no signs of current brain damage.”

Steve nodded, “Well, he’s not a basket case, either. He’ll be fine.”

“No one said he was, but he has gone through a few things.”

“Well, so have we all,” Steve said.

“Yes,” Dr. Mboya said. Somehow, Steve felt he hadn’t made his case very well.

Steve turned to Shuri; he was not going to ask her…. “You didn’t do more than we agreed on, did you?” So much for keeping silent, but Bucky was thinking he was in 1945, and he had to ask.

“We did what we said we would do,” Shuri said. “Which was to deal with the triggers that turned him into the Winter Soldier.” Her assisting doctor beside her nodded.

“You wanted to do more than we wanted,” Steve said, keeping his voice very neutral.

Shuri crossed her arms, “Yes, and I didn’t do enough. His brain and body are a mess and he will have serious issues. The only way he can function as well as he does is because of the serum. I would have done more if he had let me, but it was his choice.”

“If you’d done more, he might have thought it was 1917,” Steve meant it as a joke but no one laughed. Steve changed the subject, “So he’s going to sleep?” Dr. Itobo nodded.

Steve wanted to get back to Bucky, “You know he’ll probably feel better if I stay with him, so I should stay.” He tried to make it sound like he was just doing the dutiful thing. 

“I think that is an excellent idea,” Dr. Mboya said, and Dr. Itobo nodded, already getting a technician to move in a bed.

“You’ll need to eat,” Dr. Itobo said. Steve made a face at the thought of food. “Something friendly,” Dr. Itobo suggested. 

Steve shook his head, but Sam asked, “Did you say Bucky used to take care of you? What did he get you?”

Steve nodded, remembering. He’d always been sick as a child, but his Ma and Bucky were always there for him; too bad Steve hadn’t been there for Bucky when he fell in the ravine. “Yeah, he’ll need to eat when he wakes up,” Steve said, “Chicken noodle soup, beef tea.…”

“What’s beef tea?”

“It’s,” Steve said, frowning, “Well, it’s beef and you boil it in water and you squeeze it out.” He remembered watching his mother do that.

“So it’s broth.”

“Yeah, you sort of steep it, too. Depending on how he’s feeling, you can add milk or crackers to it, or egg. Bucky was never sick much, so I don’t know what he prefers.” He shrugged, “I drank a lot of beef tea. I developed a fondness for albumen water, too, but Bucky said that was nasty.” Everyone looked at him blankly, “Egg whites and cold water.” Their faces looked like they agreed with Bucky.

“Right, we’ll make some beef tea. Anything else?”

“Bucky did get sick once, and he hated the gruels.” Steve almost smiled as he remembered Bucky complaining about the mushy food he got and the hushed tones people used around the sick. “How about mashed potatoes or macaroni with white sauce?”

“What’s the white sauce?”

“Um…Milk, flour, and butter… I think.”

They’d taken Bucky to a new room, one with a colorful blanket and pillow with bold zig zags. The walls were still clinically clean, but there was a niche with wooden statues to break the coldness. Steve saw a bed was already set up for him, and a moment later, a technician brought some food in: chicken soup with big chunks of chicken and vegetables, as well as mashed potatoes and macaroni with white sauce, although it being Wakanda, they used the wrong kind of pasta (whatever it was, it wasn’t macaroni), the mashed potatoes had flecks of paprika, and the chicken soup had garlic. “Thanks,” Steve said politely, “I’ll be sure to give it to him when he wakes up.”

The technician looked at him, “This is for you.” Steve nodded and waited, wondering what would happen when his best friend woke up.


	3. Questions

Steve woke up and found himself in Bucky’s room, but Bucky still slept. The doctors checked in on Bucky, who continued sleeping. Then, Bucky slept some more. Finally, Steve woke up again and found his friend staring at him, “Bucky!” Steve said, sitting up. His friend was alive and awake and everything was going to be all right. 

“Why am I alive?” Bucky asked; Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Aren’t you’re supposed to die before a new century comes around?” Bucky wouldn’t be saying that if only Steve had found Bucky sooner.

“Yes, well,” Steve said. “For different reasons, both you and I ended up in, shall we say, ice. But it preserved us instead of killed us, because of the serum somehow, and then we were woken up.”

“What serum?”

Steve studied his friend a moment, “Do you remember Zola experimenting on you?” Bucky’s eyes widened. They’d never had this conversation in 1943 because Bucky had never admitted Zola had experimented on him; he’d only said he’d been tortured, and they hadn’t really talked about that, either. Steve wondered if things would have gone differently if they’d just talked about things.

Bucky was guarded, “What do you know about that?” 

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you,” Steve said. “But I know he did something.”

“I don’t know what he did,” Bucky said, eyes going inward. “He would do things, painful things, and I’d scream, um, I mean yell, but then…. he never asked for information, he just kept…. and I thought he cut me open, but he couldn’t have because I woke up and I was fine.” Bucky looked at Steve for his reaction, and Steve nodded, struggling to keep his face neutral. Bucky’s eyes turned inward again, “I always meant to talk to you, but….um…. “ He switched to something safer, “You know I was always hungry after that and I don’t know why.”

“Anything else?” Steve asked. Steve ate a lot too now, that was the faster metabolism and faster healing capability.

“Well,” Bucky said.

“You’re stronger? Faster reflexes?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, “But I don’t look any different.” When Steve took Dr. Erskine’s formula, he gained muscle and height, but Bucky hadn’t.

Steve nodded, “The serum was different, but it was enough to keep you alive when you fell.” And if Steve had gone back for his friend, he could have saved him and a lot of other people a lot of heartache. Bucky’s serum was stronger than Steve’s in one area: it had helped turn him into a killing machine. He tried for a joke, “You didn’t need to add height like I did.”

Bucky ignored the little joke and nodded slowly, “I guess we’re a little more alike now.” He smiled, “If you’re Captain America, I should be….Sgt. Brooklyn.” They both smiled.

Bucky thought about it, “So we’re like Buck Rogers in the 25th century, except with serum instead of Nirvano gas?”

Steve nodded, “But it’s only the 21st century, and there’s no Killer Kane.” He paused, for there was HYDRA. And Steve’s having to ditch the Valkyrie was similar to Buck Rogers being forced to crash his airship in the Arctic storm in the serial. But Buck Rogers didn’t have to deal with his best friend being a brainwashed assassin, not that Bucky appeared to remember that at the moment. 

“I always liked Flash Gordon better,” Bucky murmured. 

“You did not,” Steve said, thankful to be talking about anything other than them being wrenched from their century.

“I did,” Bucky said, sounding injured. “Priscilla Lawson and Jean Rogers are way prettier than Constance Moore.”

“It could have been the helmet she had to wear,” Steve said.

“We’ll just call the two of us ‘Bucky Rogers’ now,” Bucky said. He stared into space.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“Are we really in the future?” Bucky whispered. Steve nodded sadly. “What do I do with that?”

“Well, you need to focus on getting well, and then…. we’ll see.” Steve paused. “I’m still fighting the bad guys, and if you’re up to it, you can join us.” It would be like just like the good old days again if they could ever stop hiding from the world.

“What bad guys?”

“HYDRA is still around,” Steve said, and Bucky’s face hardened, but Steve continued, “And there are other people with enhanced capabilities, only some of them use their strength for evil.”

“Good, it will give me something to do,” Bucky said, but his mind was elsewhere.

Steve tapped his legs to change the subject, “Meanwhile, I’m going to order us some good movies to watch, and some food we’ll both like.” Would that life be that simple. He’d lost access to his collection and to his specially ordered food when they had to hide in Wakanda, but watching the good old movies and eating all alone had made him depressed, anyway, so he hadn’t even watched all the movies he’d ordered. 

“Flash Gordon is fine but skip Buck Rogers,” Bucky said quietly as his eyes lost focus. “I don’t like the future.”

Steve wondered what to say to cheer up his friend, and then he brightened, “I recently read that Rita Hayworth did more movies after we left. What say we order those? One of them in particular has a scene that apparently is - well reviewed.” Both knew he wasn’t talking about the writing.

“Sweet,” Bucky said, sounding interested. “And some westerns and adventure movies and stuff.”

“Stagecoach.”

“Dodge City, remember the bar-room brawl?”

“Oh yeah, and other Erroll Flynn movies: Adventures of Robin Hood and Charge of the Light Brigade.” 

“Treasure Island.”

“Captain Blood,” they both said together. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, but they liked saying the name. Steve smiled; this was the Bucky he remembered.

“Ox-Bow Incident,” Bucky said. Steve smiled and nodded. It had been the last movie they’d seen before Bucky shipped off to war.

Steve’s smile faded, “My Man Godfrey.” His mother had loved that comedy, and it was the last one she ever saw.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, watching Steve’s face. 

“Well acted,” Steve said, clearing his throat. It had gotten nominations, but Steve never remembered if it won.

Bucky nodded seriously. Then he studied Steve, “We can watch it on one condition.” Steve waited for the condition while trying to quiet his emotions. Bucky waited for the right moment, “Bride of Frankenstein.” There was a wicked gleam in Bucky’s eyes.

“What?” Steve asked, aghast.

“Boris Karloff is great in it, and get Mark of the Vampire with Bela Lugosi, too.”

Steve made a big show of sighing patiently, “Fine, them too.” Bucky liked them way more than Steve did.

Bucky’s lips were twitching, “You don’t have to, I just wanted to get a rise out of you.” Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky’s smile faded, “Can I visit their graves?”

Steve didn’t have to ask who he was talking about, “Of course.” He had no idea how he’d arrange it with them being exiled to Wakanda. “Um…”

“What?” Bucky asked.

“I’m sure we can do it, but it will take awhile.” Little things like the world would have to forget about the Winter Soldier and all the people he killed.

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“You remember we’re in Wakanda.”

“Yeah, how did we get here?”

“Well, we’re sort of hiding from the world right now.”

“Why?” Bucky asked him. He definitely didn’t remember.

“That’s a long story. Maybe we should save it for….”

“Steve, what happened?” Bucky asked. “Wait a minute, Captain America is hiding from America? How did that happen?” Bucky thought more on it while Steve tried to formulate his answer, and then Bucky asked, “You didn’t do something stupid, did you? I told you not to do something stupid until I got back.”

Steve knew he should continue the joke, but he wanted it over, “There was this… friend who was accused of something he didn’t do, but he ran, so I had to get him, and everyone got upset.”

Bucky’s face fell as he considered this, “It wasn’t me, was it?” Steve studied him, and the dark-haired man frowned, “I don’t remember anything.”

Steve smiled, “Good!” Shuri’s thing had worked!

“But I did something?” Bucky asked, then his shoulders sank, “Zola.”

“Are you remembering?” Steve asked, studying him again.

“No,” Bucky said, “But…. it was weird, you know?”

“Are you talking about the first time?” Steve asked. He didn’t think Bucky would characterize his second time with Zola as “weird” because “weird” wasn’t the word to use when one is turned into a killing machine.

Bucky stared at him, “There was a second time?” Steve shrugged. Bucky thought furiously before shaking his head, “I don’t remember a second time. He got me twice? I can’t believe it.”

Steve touched his arm, “Don’t think about it.”

“But I did something.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, you said I was accused but didn’t do it and ran anyway,” Bucky said, and Steve nodded slowly, “So why don’t we say so and go back?” Steve bit his lip, and Bucky frowned, “He made me do something.” Steve sighed. “How bad was it?” Bucky asked.

“It wasn’t you. You don’t remember and that’s proof.”

“Did I kill someone?” Bucky asked. Just one?

“It wasn’t you.”

“I killed someone,” Bucky said, “I should go to jail.” Steve shook his head. “Steve, you’re in an African country because of me; I should give myself up.” Steve continued to shake his head. “You bull-headed punk,” Bucky said.

“Jerk.”

“What’s this African country got to do with it? It’s odd being here, right?” Bucky asked. “Last I knew we were in the Alps.”

“No, they are the most technologically advanced country in the world, and they are the best place to hide.”

“So we just snuck in?”

“No, the King of Wakanda invited us.”

“Of course he did.”

“Well, he was trying to kill you because he thought you’d killed his father, but you hadn’t, so he invited us into his country instead.”

Bucky blinked at him for a moment. “I think my head is going to explode.”

“Yeah, pal, welcome to the 21st century.”

Bucky moaned.

When the doctors came with some questions for Bucky, Steve left and found Sam and Natasha waiting for him. 

“How did it go?” Sam asked.

Steve took a breath, “Fine, actually, We talked about films and I’ve got a list to order. I want to get food he’ll be expecting too.” He paused, “I should get music CDs too. ‘Happy Days are Here Again,’ ‘Back in the Saddle Again,’ stuff like that.” He frowned, “We’ll skip ‘Brother Can you Spare a Dime?’” The song came to him anyway:

They used to tell me I was building a dream  
With peace and glory ahead  
Why should I be standing in line  
Just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run  
Made it race against time  
Once I built a railroad, now it's done  
Brother, can you spare a dime?

He put that aside and forced a smile, “This is going to be fun.” His smile faded again, “No one does radio programs anymore, do they?” He’d been too depressed to look before.

“We should find some as audio CDs,” Natasha said. 

“You wouldn’t have to wait for them to arrive if we found them on YouTube,” Sam said.

“Mmm, I’m going to have to explain YouTube,” Steve said. “Oh, and I have yet to find a deck of cards,” Steve said. He’d forgotten to mention it earlier.

“What’s wrong with your smartphone?” Sam asked, and Steve looked at him, wondering why Sam had changed the subject. “Play it on your smartphone.” Sam said; Steve continued to look at him.

“We’ll get a deck,” Natasha assured Steve and made eyes at Sam.

“I wonder what I can find quickly,” Steve said, thinking back on what to order.

Steve went back to Bucky’s room and tried to keep it light while asking what he really wanted to know, “Do they say you’ll live?”

“Funny,” Bucky said. “They wanted to mess with my head some more but I told them ‘no,’ so they’re going to give me medicine instead for something.”

“For what?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Something about balancing brain chemistry?” He shrugged, “They keep acting as if I’m stressed or something. I’m not,” he shook his head, “Except for little things like being seventy years in the future when everyone and everything you know is gone, but really, that’s such a minor point I don’t see why I mention it.”

Steve nodded, “It’s nuts, isn’t it?”

“No fooling.” But after a few minutes Bucky brightened, “They also asked if I wanted an arm. They said they could make an arm that looked good, like a Sunday arm, but could also move like a claw! And when I called it a claw, they were offended and said it would be better!”

Steve smiled, “Yeah.”

“It will even be able to grip!” Bucky sounded impressed, and Steve smiled to see him so happy.

Natasha and Sam came in with more of the beef tea, chicken soup with garlic, mashed potatoes with paprika, and macaroni with white sauce with the wrong pasta, and they set it beside Bucky’s bed, “Hungry?” Natasha asked.

Bucky stared at Natasha and sighed, “Hey, doll, I’m not quite feeling up to it, can I take a rain check on that?”

Natasha’s mouth fell open, “Doll?” 

Bucky looked confused by her reaction, “What did I do wrong?” and then his shoulders fell, “I’ve definitely lost my touch.” He looked at Steve, “I’ve become you.”

Natasha shook her head, “Did he just call me ‘doll’?”

“It’s all right,” Sam told her.

Steve sighed, “Let me introduce you to two of my friends. This is Natasha…”

“I’ve never been a doll,” Natasha said.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, but Steve could tell he had no idea what he was apologizing for.

“And this is Sam.”

“Hey,” Sam said, trying to calm things down.

“Hey,” Bucky said, staying very safe and repeating back whatever Sam said. Natasha and Sam left. “What just happened?” Bucky asked Steve.

“Men don’t call women ‘doll’ anymore; it’s not considered respectful.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, lost. “Is she your girl?”

“Uh, no, and I’d suggest you don’t call her a ‘girl’ either.”

“What do I call her?”

“If you’d like to live, call her a woman,” Steve said, shrugging, “Things have changed.” Steve said, and Bucky could only nod. In the 1940’s, women had flocked around Bucky. “You want something to drink?” Bucky shook his head, and he didn’t touch the food. Steve had been able to transition into the future smoothly, of course, but he could see Bucky would have a little more trouble. That didn’t matter, Steve would be an excellent mentor.


	4. Transition

Bucky rapidly reached the point where he could leave the medical facility, which led to a problem. For some reason, Shuri and the doctors thought it was eminently reasonable to take Bucky to an isolated Wakandan village. “What?” Steve asked, as they sat in the doctors’ office. “Why can’t he live with us in the Golden City? We have a room for him and everything.” T’Challa had generously given them quarters in the secondary rank of officials’ housing behind the royal palace, and Steve couldn’t wait to show Bucky around. 

Shuri shook her head with her arms crossed, “We don’t want him triggered.”

Steve raised his hands, “You said you got rid of the triggers.”

“Not those triggers, psychological ones.”

Steve’s nose wrinkled, “What psychological ones? He doesn’t have any problems with that.”

Shuri rolled her eyes, “Please, he hasn’t even addressed them yet; his idea of dealing with it is pretending anything past 1945 doesn’t exist.” She managed to make it sound stupid.

Steve paused, “I don’t see the problem with that.” If that’s how Bucky got rid of the Winter Soldier, he was fine with it.

Shuri blew out a breath, “You wouldn’t.”

Sam stepped in, “So you’re saying the amnesia isn’t permanent,” his words were addressed to Shuri, but his eyes were on Steve.

“Yes,” Shuri said, “And when he begins to deal with it, all the post-traumatic stress, depression, guilt, and feelings of dehumanization are going to come flooding back. A certain sight, smell, or touch could make him relieve traumatic points in his past, or worse, he may stuff it all in.” Shuri’s tone turned a little prim, “All this could have been avoided if we had continued to heal him.” She sighed, “But I understand why he doesn’t want us changing any more than we had to in his brain.”

Steve nodded, “He can do it.” Steve had adapted well to the 21st century, and so would Bucky. 

Shuri studied Steve, “The only way HYDRA could make Bucky do what they wanted was to completely demolish him and then rebuild him as someone else.”

“I am aware of that,” Steve said, projecting calmness even though his stomach did a flip flop.

She leaned forward and spoke carefully like she was speaking to someone who just didn’t get it. “We can take care of the physical problems easily enough, but he has learned behaviors to undo, and he will have to find out for himself that he doesn’t have to give in to anger, and that he truly is a human being.”

Steve waved that away, “He’s way ahead of you; he was just fine in Romania.”

“Yes, let’s talk about his apartment in Romania,” Shuri began, cocking her head slightly and folding her arms.

Steve shrugged, “It was a little rundown, but he didn’t have much money to fix it.” Rundown as in mildew, water stains, broken wall tile, and mismatched items.

“No, there were guns in the refrigerator, genius. There was a cement block waiting to smash the heads of anyone who tried to attack him. He’d papered the windows so no one could see in. He slept on a mattress and a sleeping bag instead of a bed. And it was more than a little rundown, and the mismatched wall paint alone would mentally unbalance anyone. Does this sound to you like he was all there?” Steve frowned, and Shuri continued, “His idea of food was oatmeal, candy, and potato chips.”

“He bought plums,” Steve said helpfully. 

“You have to know that with his metabolism there should have been a lot of protein in his kitchen. Besides, he learned to infiltrate as an assassin, and he used that skill to fit in while in Romania. He can’t deal with his issues all by himself, it’s too much.”

“Okay, he was a little odd in Romania, but he still managed to hold down a job,” Steve paused here, because he actually didn’t know that, but he’d had an apartment, and Shuri was nodding, so he nodded back confidently.

But Shuri wasn’t that impressed. “An illegal day laborer who worked without authorization in the country, a loner, a silent but hard worker. He lived in the poorest sector of Bucharest in a poorly maintained 50-year-old building. We interviewed his neighbors and his co-workers; he may have been in a dissociative fugue state,” Shuri said. “He may be in one again when he begins to face his trauma.”

Afraid he was losing his case, Steve changed the subject slightly, “I still don’t see why he needs to hide in some isolated village.”

Shuri gave him a look, “What’s wrong with a village? It’s closer to nature so he can find himself there, and it’s completely different than anything HYDRA forced on him. He’ll avoid all his emotional triggers while he builds a base on which to deal with them.”

Steve shook his head, “He and I have spent more time than we cared to in the beauties of nature when we fought for months on end in the field, marching in the heat and the rain with nearly inedible rations, hoping our ammunition was still dry and our shoes didn’t rot on our feet. When I think of an isolated village, I picture being lucky to find something to eat and drink and someplace to sleep, and hoping some enemy didn’t pop up and shoot us down. An isolated village is going to make Bucky worse.”

Shuri paused, “Thank you for explaining what you picture when you hear those words. Remember though that this is Wakanda, and when I think of a village, I think of a peaceful place close to nature with a beautiful lake and good food cooking in pots and all of it only five minutes away from a city.”

Steve blinked, “If it’s five minutes away, it’s not isolated.”

Shuri smirked, “Did you like the five minutes away part? I’ve read some Americans describes distance by time, not by distance.” She shook her head, “So weird.”

“It’s five minutes away?” Steve asked.

Shuri nodded, “But you can’t see the city, of course, that would ruin the effect.”

“Not even over the trees?” Steve asked. Wakandans had some tall buildings.

Shuri shook her head. Then she realized a possible misunderstanding, “That’s five minutes by flyer.”

“By flyer, of course, because you don’t go anywhere by automobile,” Steve said.

“A what?” Shuri asked.

“Car,” Steve said. “Does everyone in Wakanda have a flyer?”

“Most but not all,” Shuri said, “But there’s always the public flyer.” Shuri sighed, “I still think I am correct, and my brother did put me in charge of Sgt. Barnes’ healing, but you know him best, and he still hasn’t begun to deal with his issues. Perhaps he will feel more comfortable at this point in a city. He can stay with you for a few days and we’ll reassess the situation. We’ll also be watching for any changes.”

Steve nodded, pleased. Once again, the Wakandans were proving to be very reasonable people; he couldn’t wait to show Bucky around.

Shuri shook her head when Steve left, “He’s being an idiot.”

“We’ll watch Bucky to make sure nothing happens,” the doctors said.


	5. Birnin Zana

Steve was happy to go back to Birnin Zana, the Golden City, and he smiled as he, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha flew past the beautiful, soaring buildings. He heard a gasp behind him and turned around to see Bucky with his mouth fallen open. “Told you they were advanced,” Steve said. Bucky was too preoccupied with the view to respond.

After they landed, Steve pointed out points of interest and spots he was going to show Bucky soon. He kept on having to tug on Bucky to keep him going towards their apartments, but he didn’t mind as that showed Bucky was as excited by the city as he was. “That’s the palace,” Steve said, pointing, “It’s even more amazing on the inside. You should see the art.” They went behind the palace to huge, beautifully appointed round houses, “This is housing for very important officials.” Their own apartments were not as huge, nor as elegant, but still beautiful and comfortable. When they got to the door of their apartments, he asked, “So, of all that, what do you want to see first?” Steve was pleased with himself because he wasn’t assuming that Bucky would simply want to drop everything and lose himself in the beauties of the art in the royal palace, which is what Steve would do in his place; there might be something else Bucky would want to see first. Shuri would be impressed at how well he was giving Bucky options and not telling him what to do.

“How about let’s get settled here first?” Sam suggested, getting the door open.

Something felt off about Bucky, but he was still a gentleman and waited for Natasha to go in first, causing a little awkwardness since he’d been in front of Natasha, and she was waiting for him to go in. Somehow it took Bucky a moment to register she had entered, but before Steve could suggest he go in, he did.

They walked into their apartments and the others sat down in the living room, with Bucky, still the gentleman, sitting down only after Natasha did. Steve had done the same to her when he was new to this time, but a few fierce frowns from Natasha had unlearned him. Bucky briefly looked around and then just sat there bolt upright in the exact middle of the one couch that best faced the exit, wound up as tense as a spring but with large eyes. Steve frowned and waited, his impatience growing into dread.

Bucky finally found his voice, “What was that?” Steve looked at him and waited, feeling like he was missing something. Did Bucky now look like he was in shock? Was he moving a little more slowly than normal? Finally, Bucky said, “There was this thing,” he mimed something moving, but Steve didn’t know what it was. Bucky tried again, but the motion was too vague for anyone to figure it out. “And there was this….” he mimed something coming out of a hand maybe. “Like a movie with color.” He mimed it again.

“Hologram coming out of a kimoyo bead?” Sam guessed.

“They do that here,” Steve said. “It’s the way they communicate.” He studied his friend and frowned; Bucky was definitely struggling with something.

“Is the communication by radio waves?” Bucky asked.

“Um, yes, the kimoyo bead uses radio.” He only said that to make Bucky feel better, but Steve got the feeling Wakandans were a bit beyond radio waves.

“Did I see a guy with a …. plate in his lip?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded, “Probably, I don’t notice it anymore. They’re very proud of their different cultures, and their history is amazing; it goes way back.”

“Huh,” Bucky said.

“How about let’s take the day off?” Natasha said, studying Bucky. Steve nodded, unhappy. It didn't look like Bucky wanted to see the art in the palace today, but he could take Bucky another day.

Steve paused but felt the need to keep the conversation going, “So, you want to know what we’ve been doing in Wakanda? We’ve just begun to take on war dog assignments to start paying back for all this,” Steve said, “Well, maybe not the hospital, but the rest.” He had no idea how they were paying for the hospital; T’Challa had said not to worry, but owing money made this Depression-era boy uncomfortable.

“What’s a war dog?” Bucky asked. He sounded a little lost.

“A spy,” Steve said, and Bucky nodded. “We’ve searched for Chitauri tech that they left behind.” They’d have to do a lot more to pay for everything.

“Are they people from Africa?” Bucky asked.

“Um, no, Chitauri are actually aliens.” Steve was surprised at how normal that sounded coming from his lips. 

“From…. not Africa,” Bucky said.

“No, aliens from outer space.”

Bucky looked blank for a minute, and then nodded, “Of course from outer space, why didn’t I think of that?” He shook his head, “The future is not what I expected.”

Steve winced, “You get used to it.” Bucky sighed and now eyed the large panther painting that dominated the living room instead, “That was a gift from the king,” Steve told him. 

“And you’re no doubt on a first name basis,” Bucky said. Steve bit his lip, not being able to deny it, and Bucky just shook his head and threw up his hands.

“How about we show you around the place?” Steve got up to show Bucky around the apartments, encouraged Bucky was coming back to normal speed, but as they walked, Steve suddenly realized how African the place looked - Kente and Kuba rugs on the hardwood floors, Kuba curtains, Turkana wall hangings, Igbo and Dogon masks on the walls, statuary, and Ndebele wall paintings. Even the mirrors were bordered with colorful beads. “You get used to it.” At first, he had found it alien, but the truth was, he loved it now. 

“You keep saying that,” Bucky said.

“They said we could decorate any way we wanted, and we could sell anything and buy something else, but we haven’t changed anything. We actually haven’t spent much time here,” he said, ending lamely. “Hey, let’s look at the hallway,” Steve said, and showed Bucky the New York skyline painted on the walls. Bucky studied the skyline on his right in silence. “Not that side,” Steve said. “That’s the current skyline, which is for Sam and Natasha.” Bucky looked at the other wall and almost smiled, and Steve did smile. Finally, a skyline they knew. “They wanted to get it from 1943, but in a few places they had to substitute pictures from 1940.” Steve had left Brooklyn for the war in 1943.

Bucky nodded, “Nice.” They lingered there a long moment, lost in memories.

The group walked to Bucky’s bedroom, which was waiting for him, right beside Steve’s. Sam’s and Natasha’s were across the hall. Sam and Natasha hung back slightly while Steve showed Bucky his room.

There was a bed, Basotho blanket, African cherry-wood bedside table, sapele and cherry desk with black leather chair, mirror with beaded border, and a thin tv. “The tv is actually flexible and will hold position, so you can move it around to whatever angle you want.” Steve loved that feature.

“And a tv is?” Bucky asked patiently.

“Personal movie theatre,” Steve said. “In color.”

Bucky stared at the emblem painted on the wall over the bed. It sort of looked like a heart-shaped shield with a line down the center and loops on either side of the line, with more loops on either side of the lower section of the shield. “That’s an adinkra symbol. They picked one for each of us because they wanted to make us feel welcome. Yours means, ‘love does not miss its way home.’”

“Home,” Bucky said.

“I think the point is the power of love, and also, the triumph of good over evil.” 

“I see,” Bucky said, not quite getting why the latter meaning was so perfect for him.

“Now that you’re here, you can personalize your room.”

Bucky looked at him, “Do I have any money?”

“We do,” Steve told him. “Some, anyway.”

“What’s your symbol?” Bucky asked.

So they went to Steve’s room, “It’s a sankofa, a bird turning around to catch a lost egg.” The bird’s head and tush were on the right, and the rest of the body was on the left, forming a C. 

“Have you lost lots of eggs lately?” 

Steve laughed, even if he wasn’t sure Bucky meant it as a joke, “It means you learn from the past. You know, us being from the past, get it?”

“Huh.”

Steve also had a picture of a 1936 Harley-Davidson EL. Steve’s mother had been saving up to buy her son a motorcycle but had died before she could; Bucky’s parents had made up the amount in honor of her. “You loved that motorcycle,” Bucky said.

Steve lit up, “You remember!”

Bucky stared at him, “How could I forget?” Steve nodded and looked around his own room in the hopes that Bucky would follow suit and not dwell on his gaff.

Bucky noticed Steve’s drawings on his desk. So far, he’d drawn a Wakandan city, a busy Wakandan market scene, and a Roman helmet. Bucky paused at the helmet. Steve smiled, “The palace is part art gallery and part museum. They say the Roman helmet was found pretty far north of Wakanda and represents the closest the Romans got, which was quite close considering. Some Praetorian guards marched up the Nile in 61-63 AD.” Steve shrugged, “I just kept thinking about that Roman who died so far away from home, far from all he knew, so I drew his helmet.”

Bucky studied the drawing, “I’d like to see this helmet.” Bucky paused and saw the drawing underneath them all: a drawing of him in cryofreeze. “What’s that?” Bucky asked.

Steve saw him staring at the picture. “Shall we see Sam’s room?” Steve suggested. “The boys’ bathroom is this one,” Steve said before they crossed the hall to Sam’s room. “Natasha gets the other one, but we can use it if we’re desperate.” 

“Hm,” Sam said, “Should we show him the bathroom first?”

“What’s wrong with the bathroom?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said. “Nothing, but they’ve got some weird tech.” So they went in. “You wave your hands a lot in here. You have to wave here to activate the water in the sink.” Steve directed Bucky to practice, but no water came. Steve showed him again. 

Bucky frowned, “Water comes out for you.”

“It will for you too, do it again.”

It took five tries. 

“A faucet would be easier,” Bucky grumbled. 

They moved on to the shower. “You press here. Blue means the water’s cold, and orange means warm. You can tap it to make it warmer, or you can set the temperature, but watch out, they don’t use Fahrenheit. Find a good temperature and memorize what their number for it is.” Bucky nodded, frowning in concentration.

They went to Sam’s room; Sam’s adinkra could best be described as a straight line with three crossbars.

“The straight and narrow?” Bucky guessed.

“Talons of the mightiest bird in the sky,” Sam said, “A symbol of strength, bravery, and power.”

Natasha’s whisper was loud enough for everyone to hear quite easily, “The mightiest bird is an eagle.”

Sam frowned, “They said it could be a falcon.”

Natasha whispered loudly, ‘Eagle.’ Bucky didn’t get the joke.

Sam also had a picture of flying airplanes in close formation, and pictures of family. Sam saw Bucky looking at them, “Glad I saved these to the cloud or I wouldn’t have been able to access these pictures,” he paused, “Chineye helped me do it anonymously.”

“Who’s Chineye?” Bucky asked.

“Our liaison with the Wakandan government,” Steve said. Bucky didn’t even ask how one could possibly save to a cloud or how that helped.

“I’m glad you have pictures of family,” Bucky said quietly.

“My room’s next,” Natasha announced brightly.

Bucky stopped them from going into Natasha’s, “We don’t have to go into a lady’s room.”

“Think I have cooties?” Natasha asked.

“Um, no,” Bucky said, frowning.

Steve laughed, “Cooties are imaginary now and explain why there shouldn’t be any boy/girl contact.”

“Oh.”

“What did you think it was?” Natasha asked.

“Never mind,” Bucky said.

“Lice,” Steve told her as they went into her room.

“Oh, she has that, too,” Sam said, trying to evade her slapping him and failing.

Natasha’s symbol was a circle with seven lines coming out of it. “It’s not a flower,” Natasha said, “It’s a spider’s web, and it symbolizes wisdom and creativity.” Steve had had artwork and the Harley-Davidson print, and Sam had family and flying airplanes; Natasha did not display any personal items save for two short spears on her walls. However, Steve had never seen her closet open.

“What are those?” Bucky asked.

Natasha nodded, “ _Assegai_ and _Ikiwa_ spears. The assegai is for throwing and the ikiwa for thrusting.” Bucky studied them a bit longer and with a more critical eye than the Bucky of 1945 would have.

“They’ve given you a lot,” Bucky said. “Made you personal things, painted Brooklyn on your walls. Why?”

“We’re their guests,” Steve said. “T’Challa felt he owed you a life debt.” Bucky looked at him blankly, “Because he tried to kill you when he mistakenly thought you’d murdered his father. Besides, they’ve kept their country hidden from the world, and now they’re rethinking that, so we’re their guinea pigs.” Bucky’s face was unreadable.

“Anyone hungry?” Sam asked. They wandered back to the kitchen. “What should we make?” Sam asked, looking at something metallic. “Yeah, coconut curry.”

Natasha looked over his shoulder, “We’re low on tilapia.” 

“We can stay low on tilapia,” Sam said. Natasha pressed something. “Don’t do that! Tilapia is tasteless!”

“I reordered it,” Natasha explained to Bucky.

“What?” Bucky asked.

Steve waved at the shiny refrigerator. “The refrigerator, or something anyway, keeps track of what’s in the refrigerator and the cupboards, and it tells us what we have the ingredients for and what we’re low on.” He shrugged, “Unfortunately, we still have to cook it, and as none of us are great at it, Chineye rolled her eyes and then tied it to some beginning cookbooks so it only suggests things we can actually cook.”

“Wow.”

“You can’t cook, can you?” Sam asked Bucky.

“About as well as Steve,” Bucky said.

Natasha nodded, “We’re doomed.”

Sam shook his head, “I’m still the best cook we have.”

“Definitely doomed,” Natasha said.

“Not that doomed,” Sam said, shaking his head “Chicken coconut curry it is. Where’s that recipe?”

“Remember not to spice it so much,” Steve said. He looked at Bucky, “He uses too much.”

Sam sighed, then looked at Bucky, “Can you take a little spice, or are you like Tasteless over here?” 

Bucky smiled at Steve, “You do realize you could take more spice now if you wanted to?”

“What?” Steve asked.

“You shouldn’t have a queasy stomach anymore because you’re Captain America now, right?” Bucky asked.

“Oooh,” Sam said. “A psychologist amongst us.”

Steve thought about it, but said, “I still don’t like spice.”

Bucky shook his head, and answered Sam’s question, “I always liked a little spice.”

Sam smiled, “Good. So one-fourth tasteless and the rest nicely spiced.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said.

Natasha studied the metal thing that told her what things they had, “I can make mango salad.” Sam and Steve nodded. Then Steve frowned at Natasha; she always seemed pleased when she had to cook something. What was behind that? They had shared a lot and become quite good friends, but there was still a lot he didn’t know about her.

“Rice or chapati?” Sam asked, bringing Steve out.

“Rice,” Steve said, “That’s us,” he grabbed Bucky and headed for the rice cooker.

“No,” Sam said, “You gotta do more than that.”

Steve looked injured, “It’s Bucky’s first day, give him some slack.”

“Dude, it’s not your first day,” Sam said. 

“If I’m busy helping you guys, I can’t talk to Bucky here,” Steve said, pointing to Bucky.

Bucky smiled, “I can watch all of you.” 

Steve pretended to pout, but he got out some lettuce to chop while Natasha got out a mango slicer. “Bucky, you’re in charge of the rice cooker. I’ll set it, and then when it beeps, wait five minutes, which will be indicated here, and then stir the rice so it doesn’t do whatever it does if you don’t stir it.”

“So it doesn’t stick together,” Sam said.

“My, you put me to heavy work here,” Bucky said. He washed his hand for when he would handle food and breathed in the mango scented soap.

After dinner, they talked a bit, and then Sam and Natasha left. Steve took Bucky to Steve’s room. Steve sat on his bed, and Bucky in his desk chair. Then Bucky went and got his own desk chair from his room and rolled it into Steve’s. Steve waited for him, “You need to listen to some good music?” 

“I don’t feel like anything with African drums,” Bucky said. 

“No,” Steve said. He pressed one of his kimoyo beads, “I’ve been creating a few playlists.”

“I thought those silver beads were for communication,” Bucky said.

“They’re for lots of things. Each bead does a different thing.”

“Of course it does,” Bucky said.

“Sit back and pretend this is a radio.”

“That’s a mighty tiny radio you got there, pal,” Bucky said.

“Shut up,” Steve said, leaning back and closing his eyes. From the kimoyo bead came Judy Garland’s voice, “Somewhere over the rainbow/ Way up high/ There’s a land that I heard of/ Once in a lullaby.”

Bucky sighed, “That always made me think of home when we heard it in the trenches.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said, with his eyes still closed.

Other favorites followed, upbeat songs, and big band music.

“I’ve got programs, too,” Steve said after awhile, “We have to make our own radio. I’ve got Jack Armstrong…”

Bucky laughed, “the All-American Boy, you would.”

“Hey, if you don’t want to hear any….”

“What else?”

“The Adventures of Superman.”

“Hmm, you’re him now.”

“Lone Ranger, and the Jack Benny Show.”

“What about the Shadow?” Bucky asked, adopting a dramatic voice, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!" 

“No.” Steve said, staring at the man who didn’t appear to be consciously aware he’d been the Winter Soldier.

“What about ‘You are There’ with Edward R Murrow? Bucky asked.

He hadn’t thought of that. “I wonder how well those kept up,” Steve said, “We should see.”

Bucky’s smile was sad, “Becca loved them.” Steve nodded. They settled on the Lone Ranger.

After awhile, Bucky said, “Thanks Steve, I needed that.”

Steve smiled, “So did I.”

“Good night.”

“Good night. I’m glad you’re back, Buck.”

“Me too.”


	6. Night Dreams

Steve had changed into pajamas and was in bed when Bucky knocked, and Steve got up to get it. Bucky looked a little alarmed and a little embarrassed standing in his pajamas.

“What is it?” Steve asked. 

“Something’s wrong with the room.” They both went to Bucky’s room, but Steve saw nothing wrong. “Can’t you smell it?” Bucky asked.

Steve took in a deep breath, “Oh, that’s just the soothing scent so you can sleep better.” Bucky looked at him blankly. “See, you changed into pajamas and got into bed, right? So the room sent a soothing scent. It’s lavender unless you pick something else, like chamomile, lemongrass, or frankincense.”

“Frankincense? I thought that was just from the Bible, but the light dimmed too, and I thought it was going to fail completely, but I guess not.” Bucky looked around the room just to make sure. 

“Actually, it dims to help you get ready to sleep.”

“How does the room know all that?”

“Well, you changed into pajamas and you climbed into bed.”

“So the room is spying on me?”

“No, It’s been programmed to recognize a certain set of parameters. Sam calls it smart technology.”

Bucky frowned, “I think I prefer dumb.” 

“We’re supposed to be able to change it if we want, I just don’t remember how. We could ask Sam or Natasha.”

“Anything else I should know about? Is it going to dress me in the morning?”

“No, but if you look in the mirror it will suggest what to wear based on what’s in your closet and the weather outside.”

“Oh please.”

“They are way ahead of us in the technology department.” Steve had to admit it still unnerved him a bit.

“So I see. What else?”

“Well, the temperature is an average of all our body temperatures,” Steve said, and Bucky groaned, “And it warms the rooms just before everyone wakes in the morning, and we’ve got it to start the coffee maker when either Sam or I get up, and the water for tea when Natasha gets up.” Steve shrugged, “Pretend it’s Tomorrowland. We’d drool over this if it were at an expo.”

“Yeah, it’s different when you’re in pajamas,” Bucky said. 

Steve nodded, “You have it harder because we’re in Wakanda. I thought modern-day New York took some getting used to, but this is even weirder.”

Bucky sighed, “At least you acknowledge it’s weird. If I go to bed now, is it going to do anything else to me?”

“No.” Steve thought a moment to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“All right,” Bucky said, “I’m holding you to it.”

Steve smiled, “Good night.”

Steve woke up to the sounds of screaming in the night, but it had been a dream. The memory of fighting Bucky on the helicarrier and hearing Bucky cry out as Steve broke his best friend’s arm brought a familiar pang of guilt, and he wondered if it would ever stop haunting him. 

There was another scream, and he realized it wasn’t a dream; Bucky was screaming in his room. 

He ran and found Bucky screaming with his one arm shielding his face. “Bucky! Bucky! Wake up!” Suddenly, his friend’s hand came down and his body went rigid, eyes darting around for enemies, and he backed up against the headboard so hard the bed bounced. He stared fiercely at Steve, breathing heavily. Steve put his hand up, “It’s okay, you’re safe.” 

Natasha and Sam ran in, and Bucky jumped out of bed, landing in a fighting stance. “No no, you’re safe.” Steve put up his hands again. “I’m not going to hurt you…. How about we lay down again?” Steve backed up and waited before speaking again, but before he did, Bucky sat down with a plop. Sam and Natasha wisely waited at the door.

“Notice how your breath feels,” Sam said from the door. “Take a deep breath in, hold it, out, hold it. Feel the floor under you. You’re safe here. How many things can you see?”

Steve glanced at him quickly before his eyes went back to Bucky, and Sam told him, “Grounding and soothing techniques.” Steve still didn’t know what he meant.

They all waited until Bucky’s breathing slowed to normal. “Can I help you back to bed?” Steve asked. Only then did Steve notice the lavender scent was pumping overtime, and the only reason people weren’t coughing was Sam and Natasha were keeping the door open.

Bucky looked worriedly at Steve, “What happened?”

“It’s all right, you just had a dream.”

Bucky rubbed his face, his body relaxing slightly, “It felt so real.” 

“Just a dream,” Steve repeated.

Bucky shook his head, “There was a New Year’s Eve party with lots of balloons and banners and well-dressed people… but there was blood and five dead bodies on the floor. I had a PPSH-41, but I don’t even know who the people were.” Steve remembered hearing about PPSH-41s, they’d been a relatively new Soviet submachine gun once upon a time. Bucky looked shakily at Steve, who looked stricken. “Why would I even dream that?”

“Don’t know Buck,” Steve lied softly. He could hear Natasha and Sam leave as quietly as they could.

Bucky heard them too, “Oh great,” he moaned. “Me and my mouth.”

“No, you’re fine,” Steve said.

“The gun was so real,” Bucky repeated, sounding amazed.

“We’ve all had disturbing dreams that don’t make sense,” Steve said. The Winter Soldier wasn’t going down without a fight! He straightened his shoulders; that was okay, the Winter Soldier was just a bully, and Bucky always beat bullies.

Bucky looked at him hungrily, then accepted what he saw and nodded shakily. He looked at the bed dubiously and said, “I don’t want to go back to sleep.” 

“Sit and read,” Steve said, “I have a few books.”

Steve went and got the book he’d been reading and was about to hand it to Bucky, when just in time, Steve saw the cover. He was reading The Manchurian Candidate. “Oh, wait,” Steve said, “Let me get another.” Bucky did not comment as Steve ran back. “Here.” This one was safe, it was about a Martian, and Bucky liked science fiction.

Bucky nodded, “Go away and sleep, Steve,” Steve hung around awkwardly anyway, and Bucky pretended to read. Steve eventually left.

Steve laid awake in his own room. Then it dawned on him which book he’d given Bucky. It was The Martian, a story about a man abandoned on Mars and struggling to survive when he was the only human on the entire planet. Steve sighed and wondered how awkward it would be to get that one back as well.

In the morning, Bucky looked a little bleary eyed and deeply troubled, but he tried to pretend like nothing was wrong, commenting only on how the bathroom soap smelled lemony. Steve nodded, “Lemongrass.”

The coffeemaker was finished by the time Bucky made it to the kitchen, and the water for tea was near boiling. 

Steve rummaged through the kitchen looking for stuff on hand that Bucky would like to eat. Luckily, he and Steve ate about the same things. If they’d still been in America, Steve had amassed an impressive amount of food that reminded him of home; here, not so much. But for breakfast, they could still have eggs and bacon, toast, or oatmeal. They even had Cheeri Oats and Shredded Wheat, although now the Cheeri Oats were called Cheerios, and the Shredded Wheat came in bite-sized bits you didn’t have to break with your spoon. “What do you want for breakfast?” Steve asked.

“Is that metal thing going to tell you what to eat?” Bucky asked.

“No. Eggs and bacon, oatmeal, Cheeri Oats, or Shredded Wheat?” Steve asked. “The Shredded Wheat comes bite-sized now.” Intrigued, Bucky came over, and Steve showed him the box. 

“Weird, I’ll try that,” Bucky said, pointing at the bite-sized Shredded Wheat. Bucky tried it, “I like it. I always hated having to cut up the pieces with my spoon.” He looked at the refrigerator but did not open it. “Do you have orange juice in there?” Steve thought a moment, and Bucky smiled, “Can you hear my mama?”

Steve laughed and went to the refrigerator, “Yes, healthy breakfast; vitamins are important. Here’s your orange juice.” Bucky’s mother had been big on the latest health news, just like Steve’s mother. 

Steve had been hoping to show Bucky the palace, but he decided he would have to be patient and another day in the apartment was in order. He saw Natasha sitting in the living room, “Weren’t you going to spar with the Dora Milaje today?”

Natasha shrugged, “Not quite feeling up to it.” Steve nodded, accepting the lame excuse without comment; she’d called it off to watch Bucky.

“Well, I’m still doing my errand,” Sam said, unrepentant.

“What’s that?” Steve asked.

“Going to Step Town. I’ll do it around lunch, but I’m only thinking of you guys,” Sam said, much to the derision of Steve and Natasha. Bucky just looked blank. “Step Town has the best street food in the world,” Sam explained. “I think I need to bring some good stuff back.”

“After you’ve sampled a few items just to be sure,” Natasha said.

Sam threw his arms wide, “Well, what can I say? I’m just dedicated that way.”

Natasha nodded and told Bucky, “If you walk down the streets with this guy, all the food vendors know him by name.”

Sam smiled, “They call me Ukhetshe, the Falcon.” 

Bucky blinked, “Why?”

Sam paused, “I have an experimental winged harness.”

“Of course you do,” Bucky said, “From Wakanda, right?”

“No, from America.”

“I thought everything futuristic came from Wakanda.”

“No.”

Bucky frowned, “I’m going to need a score card.”

Steve made sure they had a quiet day and hovered around his friend as much as he could without raising Bucky’s suspicions, which was easy because the dark-haired man dozed off and on. While Steve didn’t alert any Wakandan doctors, someone must have, for a cheerful doctor with a touch of grey in his hair came by and introduced himself to Bucky, “My name is Dr. Dinsaa. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Bucky said tiredly. 

“If you need to talk about anything, I’d be happy to listen.”

Bucky looked at him, “What are you, a psychologist? The doctor nodded, and Bucky looked offended, “Do you think I’m that weak? I had one little dream!”

“Weakness has nothing to do with it. I’m simply here to see if you’d like to talk.”

“No, I can take care of it myself, I don’t need any of your treatments,” Bucky said. The doctor nodded, unoffended.

After the doctor left, Steve sought out Sam. “Did you call the psychologist?”

“Yeah, and it was good of him to come on such short notice; he was the only doctor they could send,” Sam said, studying Steve’s face, “We agreed he’s going to need help. How did it go?”

Steve couldn’t believe it, “He’s not a coward and he’s not emotionally weak! This isn’t his fault!” How could his friend think otherwise?

Sam blinked, “No one said it was! He said he wanted all that HYDRA stuff out of him; we’ve taken care of the physical, and now we’re dealing with the mental. You know those dreams are going to continue.”

Steve looked as offended as Bucky had been, “He can take care of it himself.”

Sam laughed, “Excuse me?” Sam studied Steve, “I’ve worked with vets at the VA, you were there.”

“Yes, and it was intense, but that was just vets talking with each other,” Steve said.

“It was a therapy group.” Sam said. 

“He can take care of that too,” Steve said.

“There is nothing wrong with seeking professional help,” Sam said. “It isn’t a sign of weakness.”

“What do you hope they’d do to him?” Steve said, “Lock him up, put him in a straightjacket? Hasn’t he been through enough? Hasn’t he been shocked enough?”

Sam’s face screwed up, “They weren’t going to do that!”

“Then why did you send for him?”

Sam stared at Steve with open mouth, “We all agreed he probably has triggers related to post-traumatic stress, which you call battle fatigue or something like that, and he has to deal with it.” 

“By himself, not with a psychologist.”

“Are you serious?” Sam asked before shaking his head, “I forgot, the stigma was even stronger in the old days. Look, if you break your leg, you go to the doctor. If you break your brain, you go to the doctor, same thing. And they don’t do that straightjacket thing anymore.” Sam studied Steve, who crossed his arms and looked bullish, “Okay, not yet.” 

“Not ever,” Steve mumbled. 

Sam frowned and added, “Even if he screams his fool head off every night in what could be avoided if only he talked to a psychologist.” Steve frowned at him, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Bucky spent much of the day trying to avoid sleeping, but he still spent most of his day dozing off and on. It worried Steve, but they had said he’d do a lot of sleeping.

Steve and Bucky talked about the present time. “So you woke up in this time too?” Bucky asked, and Steve nodded. “Is that why you live with these two?” Steve nodded. “Is waking people up their job? No, that’s the Wakandans,” Bucky said. “So what do those two do?”

“We used to be a bigger group, and hopefully in the future we still can be. We’re a group of people who fight evil, and several of them have some enhancement or some special technology, like Sam, who has the wings that can make him fly.” 

Bucky lit up, “Can I fly?”

“No, he’s the only one.” Bucky looked disappointed. “But maybe he can show you sometime.” 

“What about the red head?”

“Natasha is an expert spy and fighter,” Steve said, neglecting the part about assassinations.

“You didn’t split from the bigger group because of me, did you?” Bucky said, before shaking his head, “No, that’s silly.” Steve said nothing. “So why a woman with two men?” He nudged Steve, “Huh?”

Steve shook his head, “It just happened. We’re friends.”

“Friends.”

Bucky didn’t seem like he wanted to go to bed, but Steve did, so they went to their rooms, and Steve fell asleep wondering if the worst were over and if he could show Bucky the palace the next day. He hoped so.


	7. Descent

Steve was woken by screaming that night as well. “Wake up!” he told Bucky. Sam and Natasha stayed at the door in case Steve needed anything. Steve noticed Sam staring at him with a pointed ‘I told you so’ look but ignored it.

Bucky appeared upset, “I was punching someone in the face over and over. I can still feel it in my hands.” Steve wondered if Bucky were remembering their fight in the helicarrier. “The guy looked up and….I didn’t know who he was, but I do now…” Bucky looked away and could barely whisper, “It was Howard.” He closed his eyes as if to get rid of the images, and he continued, “He was older, but… then instead of helping him, I killed him, and I dragged him to a car for some reason. I think I’d crashed it. There was this woman in the car, she could have been his wife, and she….” Bucky stopped, “and I….” His eyes grew red, “I can still feel it.” He swallowed, and then pursed his trembling lips to keep from crying, “I didn’t feel anything at all.” He looked at Steve, “I killed a woman with my bare hands and I didn’t feel anything at all. A woman, Steve, and I think she was a civilian.” Steve didn’t know what to say; she had been Tony’s mother.

Steve knew Bucky would try to avoid sleep the rest of the night, but it turned out he was so exhausted he’d fallen asleep again. The blond-haired man knew this because his friend screamed a second time that night, and Steve came running. It took him a bit to get Bucky to tell him what he’d dreamed. “I was fighting a man just like you but I didn’t know who he was, and it couldn’t have been you because I’d never do that to you of all people. I needed to kill him, and he kept saying stuff and I wanted him to shut the heck up. I shot him in the stomach but he wouldn’t stop. I hit him and knifed him, but he kept coming. I couldn’t breathe because he was choking me and everything went black, but I couldn’t let him stop my mission.” Bucky frowned, and Steve studied his friend worriedly. “Even though now I don’t remember what the mission was, and the pain only made me angrier.” The dark-haired man looked at Steve, “But suddenly he stopped fighting me for some reason. I started to punch his face in, and then he…” Bucky stared at Steve’s drawn, guilt-ridden face, “It really was you!” Bucky looked horrified, about as horrified as when he realized for the first time what he was doing on the disintegrating helicarrier. “How could I…. I dreamt I tried to kill you? What kind of monster am I?” 

“You aren’t, Bucky….it was just a dream.”

“But how could I….”

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“No, it’s not.” Bucky curled up on himself and hid his face in his arm, rocking back and forth.

Bucky had a hard time looking Steve in the eye during the day, and he barely spoke. He stayed in his room until reminded to eat. If Bucky saw Steve walking from the opposite direction in the same corridor, Bucky dove into a room. If Steve went into the kitchen, Bucky went into the living room. Steve sighed, for he had hoped to show Bucky the palace. Sam had heard enough to know why Bucky was avoiding Steve, and he silently took Steve’s place for the day, shadowing Bucky from a distance and reminding Bucky to eat. Nobody went anywhere that day, not even to Step Town.

Steve couldn’t stand it and decided to confront his friend, but seeing Bucky dive into the living room made him change his mind. He sighed and stood just outside the living room with his hands on his hips, wondering what to do. A hand touched Steve’s shoulder, “Let me talk to him,” Natasha said quietly, and Steve stepped aside, but he stayed just outside.

Bucky was sitting ramrod straight on the couch that best faced the exit, but he got up when he saw Natasha come in. Natasha stopped, not expecting that reaction, and they stood there a moment. “Are you going somewhere?” Natasha asked.

“No,” Bucky said.

“Then why are we standing?” Natasha asked.

“I’m waiting for you to sit down,” Bucky said.

Natasha sat down opposite Bucky, and Bucky sat down as well. 

“Why would you stand up if you were going to sit down?” Natasha asked before shaking her head, “Never mind, it’s fine. You remind me of Steve in the early days.”

“You know…” Bucky began.

“Actually, I don’t.” Natasha said. Steve did, but he didn’t say anything because he was watching Bucky from a distance.

“Because you’re a woman.”

“I have been all my life, your point?”

“It’s good manners to stand when a woman comes in,” Bucky said, puzzled. 

“Oh,” Natasha said.

“Don’t they do that in Russia too?” Bucky asked.

Natasha frowned, and her voice was dry, “The people I was with were not concerned with social niceties.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bucky said, puzzled and obviously not picturing the Red Room.

They fell into silence. 

Natasha began, although she addressed the thin air, “When I was young, people taught me to do things… that polite company abhors. When I came to the States, a man named Clint brought me to live with his family.” Natasha shrugged, “I was 13 when I came.” Bucky nodded, and Natasha continued, “I had feelings that I didn’t know what to do with; sometimes they came out in dreams.” Listening from the entrance to the living room, Steve started backing away quietly. He was surprised Natasha cared enough about Bucky that she opened up to him like this, and he also knew how much Natasha was trusting Steve as she opened up knowing he could hear her talk about how Clint’s secret family had helped her adjust after the Red Room.

Steve had no idea what the two talked about after that, but when he decided to avoid the living room and go to the kitchen for a snack, he found them at the kitchen table, sitting close together but both looking into space in separate directions. Their voices were low and soft. Steve backed up again, and they were quiet until he left.

Steve casually passed by Natasha later that night, “Thanks for talking with Bucky; he seems calmer.” Natasha shrugged, pretending it was nothing that she had opened up like that. Steve nodded, wondering how to ask his questions. “Is that all?” Natasha asked, her tone suggesting the conversation was over.

“Yeah, that was all,” Steve said, realizing he should leave.

Natasha sighed and stared at the wall, “Laura noticed I tended to open up in the kitchen. I never told her it was because that was the warmest place when I was a child.” She looked at Steve, “It was cold in Russia.”

Steve nodded, “It makes sense.”

Natasha shrugged, “I thought he might open up there too.”

“Did he?”

Natasha sighed, “It’s hard for him.”

By the third night, Steve rolled his eyes when the screaming woke him up. Really, he was never going to get any sleep if this kept up. He walked to Bucky’s room, where he was greeted with Bucky in a fighting stance and holding a stolen kitchen knife.

Steve held up his hands, “You got me, Buck, I won’t hurt you. Let’s calm down here.” Bucky watched Steve with the eyes of a tiger, so Steve sat down, careful to keep his hands where Bucky could see them. “You’re safe. Um, what would Sam suggest you do? Let’s breathe slowly.” Bucky slowly relaxed, and then he stared at the knife, puzzled. Steve waited until Bucky’s eyes were back on him so as not to startle him. “Can you put down the knife, Buck? No one’s going to hurt you.” Bucky frowned again and put the knife down. Steve made to grab for it but Bucky snatched it back and held it up, ready to attack. “Sorry, sorry,” Steve said, back to putting his hands up, “I don’t want anyone hurt.” Steve waited until Bucky frowned and put the knife down of his own accord, puzzled again. “Can I have the knife, please? I’m not going to hurt you.” Bucky frowned again and pushed the knife towards Steve, hilt first. “Thank you, Bucky.”

Bucky related his dream in a flat way that bothered Steve quite a bit. “I was tracking someone by car, so I shot out the tires and the car went over the cliff. My target was still alive, and the woman was shielding him with her body, so I shot through the woman. Mission accomplished.” Bucky and Steve sat there in silence for a long moment. Steve had a real bad feeling as he stared at a calm but watchful Bucky.

The next day, Bucky dressed in black, sat wary and stiff-backed, and did not speak at all unless someone asked him a direct question. Steve was losing Bucky and he didn’t know what to do. “Remember how we used to sleep on the couch cushions at your house and stay up all night? Then your mother would come by and we’d pretend to be asleep.” Bucky looked at him blankly. But Steve was rewarded with a smirk when he mentioned the time he’d stumbled on their first double date trying to protect his date from puddles and ended up in one himself. 

“Steve,” Sam said when he caught Steve alone, “We need to talk.”

“Later,” Steve said, putting a hand up, “Later. He’ll get over it.”

“Steve,” Natasha said when she caught him alone.

“I’m busy,” Steve said, leaving quickly.

There was no screaming the fourth night, and Steve didn’t know whether he should be relieved or unnerved. “Did you sleep?” Steve asked when he came by in the morning. Bucky gave a slight shake of the head. Steve paused, wondering if he should make a big deal of it. “Well, you can nap in the daytime.” Bucky watched Steve carefully but said nothing. “Are you hungry?” Steve asked. Bucky just stared at him calmly, waiting for something. “Do you want breakfast?” Bucky seemed to consider it warily and gave the barest of nods. “What would you like?” Completely blank look. Steve tried to quell his rising panic as he kept his voice even, “We have eggs and bacon, toast, oatmeal, pancakes, Shredded Wheat, anything you’d like.” The Winter Soldier stared at him, and Steve felt angry inside, “Come on, Buck, you used to talk to me.”

“Nourishment is necessary,” Bucky said in a deep, quiet voice.

“Fine, we’re having stewed prunes,” Steve said. Bucky said nothing. “Are you good with that?” Steve asked. Bucky gave that bare nod again, a nod straight from the Winter Soldier, and Steve put his hands on his hips, “You hate stewed prunes.” Bucky looked slightly alarmed, took a deep breath, and steeled himself to wait for something. “We’re not having stewed prunes,” Steve told him. Was his friend expecting to be punished? Eat prunes? They didn’t have any in the house. Steve waited for Bucky to say something, but he didn’t, so Steve rolled his eyes and sadly made them both eggs, hash brown potatoes, and sausage. He made Bucky’s eggs scrambled the way he normally ate them, and he made his own sunny side up, even if he didn’t feel like it.

Bucky seemed tense and wary when Steve brought the food, and then he ate all that was on the plate, starting on the top right side and eating all of the hash brown potatoes before going down to the sausage and eating all of that before moving on and eating around the plate in a clockwise fashion to the eggs. Each forkful or spoonful was the same size, and the eating was quick and efficient, with no movement wasted. Steve watched but didn’t comment. Nor did he comment when Bucky suddenly started drinking his coffee black. Natasha and Sam hovered in the distance but made themselves scarce during the meals. Bucky only got slightly less tense for lunch and dinner but looked blank when asked to make a decision and ate whatever Steve put on his plate, and eating until the plate was almost spotless. Out of pure frustration, Steve gave Bucky a dessert muffin with a quick smiley face on it made out of whipped cream, but Bucky didn’t react, and that made Steve even more depressed.


	8. Searching for Understanding

After Bucky had fallen asleep, Steve sat alone in the living room with the lights off, staring into space. Sam turned on a lamp and sat down right beside him, but Steve didn’t have the energy to leave and avoid the conversation. Sam studied him, “We know he’s still in there.” Steve sighed, and Sam continued, “I told you it was going to take time.”

“He’s not even speaking,” Steve said, which was only a slight exaggeration. 

“Well, the Wakandans said it would take some getting used to, and they didn’t know how his brain would respond. This is the first time in seventy years his brain is free from the programming,” Sam said, “His first try was thinking everything after 1945 didn’t exist; now he’s dealing with it, or maybe this is the preparation before that. He hasn’t had enough time to figure out how to be a human being again.” He thought about it, “Or maybe the way we act is messing him up somehow, we aren’t handlers but he might think we are.” Sam thought a moment, “I hope not.” He thought some more, “If he does, we might be messing him up because there’s three of us. Of course, you spend the most time with him, so maybe not.” 

“We don’t tell him what to do,” Steve said softly.

“Don’t we? We wake him up and ask him what he wants for breakfast and then lunch and dinner, and despite our best efforts he can probably figure we hope he’ll be a certain way.” Sam sighed and tried to act casual, “You know, we could always bring in a psychologist.”

“No,” Steve said automatically but without heat.

“Don’t you want him to recover? It’s not that he can’t speak, it’s that for some reason he doesn’t want to.” But Steve refused, for his friend wasn’t weak, even if, well, things weren’t quite normal. “There are two kitchen knives still missing,” Sam said. “Two guesses as to who took them, and the first doesn’t count.”

Steve nodded, “I knew he had one, which I already put back after he gave it to me; he must have had three.” Wasn’t three knives a little much? What did he want them for, anyway? Steve remembered being confronted by his friend with a knife; was he that threatened?

Steve tried again with his friend in the morning, coming into Bucky’s room. Bucky was dressed in black and sitting straight-backed on the colorful throw rug on the floor of his room with his back to the corner and his eye on the entrance. Steve eyed the bed and the desk chair, but sat down on the floor with his friend. “You don’t speak much anymore.” He wondered where the knives were.

Bucky tensed and eyed him warily, Steve didn’t think he’d speak, but finally Bucky asked, “What is required for me to say?” His voice was deep and quiet.

“Why don’t you want to speak?”

“Speech isn’t required,” said the man who had been the gregarious one of the two.

“Look, I have no idea what to say right now, I’ve never been good at this kind of thing,” Steve said. “You were talking when we went to Siberia.” Bucky seemed to consider this. “So what’s different?” Steve asked. He was fine when they went to Siberia.

“You’re ordering me to speak more,” Bucky decided in that low voice of his.

“I’m not trying to tell you to do anything, I’m just trying to understand, and I want to help, but I don’t know how.”

“Help with what?” Bucky asked. 

Many things came to Steve’s mind, but he didn’t want to start with the knives. “When I came to this time, I was lost.” Steve studied his friend, “Doesn’t it bother you?” Bucky looked blank, and Steve realized he didn’t know his friend anymore, “Well, what do you want help with then?” Bucky looked a little surprised. “What’s surprising?” Steve asked.

Bucky said, “Describe the parameters of the mission.”

“This isn’t a mission!” Steve said. “What do you want to do?” Steve asked, slower and a little louder, as if that would help. “You have to want something.”

“I await a mission.” 

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Buck.”

“I obey orders.” He paused, frowning, “No, I don’t anymore.”

“You didn’t in Siberia with me.”

The dark-haired man considered this, “You wanted to go to Siberia.”

Had he forced Bucky to go to Siberia? He didn’t think so. “Well, so did you.”

“We needed to stop Zemo from waking up the other Winter Soldiers.” Not that that had worked the way they had planned.

“Okay, is there anything you have to do here?” Steve asked. 

Bucky didn’t answer at first, and Steve realized there was nothing obvious for him to do here. “I’m waiting for you to tell me what to do,” Bucky finally admitted, not happy with himself. He was the Winter Soldier without a mission, sitting around with three loose cannons who made sure he ate.

Steve sagged, “I really don’t want to tell you what to do.”

“You want me to speak more,” Bucky said, nodding his acceptance of the mission. Steve realized this was going to be more difficult that he thought.

“Wait, you had notebooks. Do you want to write in notebooks?” Hope rose in Steve’s heart.

“They’re my memories,” Bucky said, wary.

“You want to remember more,” Steve said, and Bucky nodded unwillingly. Steve smiled, “I can help you with that.” Then Steve paused. He was thrown by this new Bucky and didn’t know how he’d react to discussing the knives he still had. Would he feel threatened? Grab the very knives they didn’t want him to use? He decided to earn this new Bucky’s trust first. “We should try to get your old notebooks back, too.”

“Someone has them,” Bucky said. He didn’t remember who, but he’d lost them. He remembered an evil black chair in a cage but pushed that thought away.

Later, Steve asked his friend to take a morning shower, and the blond-haired man went into Bucky’s room and looked for the knives but couldn’t find them. Surprisingly, he found bread, peanuts, and potato chips stuffed in odd places, but that was so weird he just kept on searching. Then the sight of black clothes distracted him, and he took all the black clothes he could find, intending to never return them. Bucky ended up taking a quick shower, and Steve had to move fast. He tried to find the knives but ran out of time and kicked himself over his priorities as he hustled out of the room before Bucky came out.

Bucky didn’t come out after that, but when Steve asked Bucky to come out, his friend came out wearing the darkest colors Steve had left him. Bucky frowned as he warily followed Steve into the kitchen. But Sam stopped Steve, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, we’re just going to have breakfast,” Steve said, “Eat with us.”

“Uh, thanks, can I talk to you before that?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” Steve said, frowning, but when he turned to Bucky, he was upbeat, “I’ll be a moment.”

They walked to the living room, and Sam began to speak, but Steve stopped him and put on some Big Band music. “I’m assuming you don’t want Bucky to hear,” Steve whispered.

Sam nodded, “Enhanced hearing, I forgot. Okay, Bucky needs to decide what he eats.”

“Of course,” Steve said, proud he’d already thought of that, “I always give him all the choices and let him….”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Sam said. “Don’t give him choices.”

Steve sighed, “He has a hard enough time deciding already.”

“What if he wants to eat something you aren’t thinking of? What if he wants to eat more, or less?”

Steve shook his head and smiled, remembering all the times they ate together, “You’re forgetting we grew up together.”

Sam didn’t smile back, “You’re forgetting all the trauma he’s endured.”  
f  
“How is trauma going to affect what he eats for breakfast?” 

“Let him decide,” Sam said. “I’ll help him learn how to make decisions if it comes to that.” 

Steve didn’t like it one bit, but he saw Sam was very serious about it. “Okay, but I’m watching both of you.”

So both of them led Bucky into the kitchen. Steve knew it was a mistake already because he could tell Bucky picked up on the tension. “Steve’s already eaten,” Sam lied casually, “How about you make something for yourself? Whatever you want in here is fine, you can’t make a wrong choice and you won’t get anyone angry.” Sam took a step back and looked significantly at Steve, who frowned and took a step back as well. 

Steve’s stomach dropped as he saw Bucky stare at the kitchen, completely uncertain about what to do next. Steve was about to speak but Sam glared at him and held up a hand. Steve closed his mouth. Sam said, “You can decide in any order, but you might find out what’s available first, and then decide.” Bucky didn’t move. “Take it in tiny steps,” Sam said, as Steve’s stomach did flip-flops. “What’s over there?” Sam pointed to a corner, “Then go through the room.” Bucky moved towards the corner, and Sam pushed Steve out of the kitchen.

They waited outside the kitchen in silence. Somehow, Natasha had overheard and just appeared beside them as they waited. They could hear Bucky quickly and methodically go through the kitchen. Then there was silence. He appeared to go through a second time, this time setting things down on the counter or table. They heard him use the sink and then put something on the stovetop, and then another thing. Then perhaps he put food on the table.

Steve couldn’t stand it. He found a piece of paper and wrote, “He was fine in Siberia!”

Sam wrote back, “He’s had brain surgery.”

Steve still couldn’t stand it, and he peaked around the corner, despite Sam’s glare and Natasha’s iron grip. Bucky was surrounded by food but stopped eating and stared at Steve, having known they were waiting around the corner. Steve let Natasha drag him back.

Sam glared at Steve again but then went into the kitchen, “I think I forgot my coffee in here,” Sam told Bucky, looking around, “No, I guess I didn’t.” He laughed at himself, “Maybe the living room.”

“You came from the living room,” Bucky said.

“I guess I did,” Sam said. “We didn’t want to tell you what to eat. I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky started washing the dishes soon after that, and Natasha pushed Steve outside the house. Steve began to protest but Natasha asked, “Can he hear us out here?”

“No, but….” Steve began.

“What does he eat?” Natasha asked.

“Why did you have to peek? You might have stopped him,” Sam said.

“I wanted to know,” Steve said. But he realized he didn’t remember what Bucky was eating. Whatever it was, it was odd.

“So?” Natasha asked. Steve shrugged.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Good thing I saw; thank you, Sam, for paying attention when Captain America didn’t.” Steve just frowned at him. “He ate plain boiled vegetables, potato chips, Nat’s bread, Nat’s soup, and something to drink. I don’t know what it was, but it was milky and in a glass.”

“Then you could see what it was,” Natasha said. “Was it milk?”

“Maybe,” Sam said, “But the creamer was right by the cup and there wasn’t any coffee or tea. Who puts creamer in milk?”

“Who eats any of that for breakfast?” Steve asked. What was going on with Bucky? He remembered the food Bucky had hidden in his bedroom; it had included bread and potato chips.

“That’s low on protein,” Natasha said, frowning. “It’s also straight out of the Red Room, except for the chips and being meatless.” She thought a moment, “Meat is expensive. He would have learned that in Romania.”

“He wouldn’t know if he stole all the time,” Sam said.

“He was in an apartment and the landlord knew he was there,” Natasha reminded him. “If he could pay for an apartment, he could pay for his food.”

“Sorry about your soup,” Sam said.

Natasha waved that thought away, even though she’d made it. “Soup was one of the few bright spots in the meal; now it’s a comfort food.” She was still frowning, “He needs lots of protein for his enhancements.”

“Did they give him a lot of meat in the Red Room?” Sam asked. Steve was still stuck on Bucky’s odd choices and hidden food and was barely listening to them.

“I wouldn’t know,” Natasha said, “He ate separately. We got meat if we did well.” She paused, “Creamer? He had creamer?”

Sam nodded, “But no coffee or tea.”

“That’s really odd,” Natasha said.

“Earth to Steve,” Sam said.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Go in and ask him,” Sam said.

Steve nodded, and they opened the door to go in. Bucky was waiting for them just inside. 

“Hi there, Bucky,” Steve said casually, as if it were normal to make someone eat breakfast alone and then go outside to analyze their food choices. 

“Let’s go on a walk,” Natasha told Sam, and off they went.

“So, had a good breakfast?” Steve asked as he went back into the house. Bucky didn’t say anything. “Full?” Was that regret on Bucky’s face? “Are you okay?”

“Please define what that means.”

Steve couldn’t keep his mouth from falling open. He saw Bucky was waiting for something. “You did fine.” Steve had no idea what to do next, and he had no idea how to ask about odd food choices. He started with the first one. “Gee, I’m thirsty. What d’ya drink for breakfast?” He hoped that was casual enough.

Bucky hesitated, “It was for assets.”

Steve froze. “Bucky.” He studied Bucky’s tense face, “You’re not an asset.” Bucky said nothing. “Milk is for everyone.” Bucky blinked, confused. “I’m just a little confused why you put creamer in it.”

“It wasn’t milk,” Bucky said.

Now Steve was confused. “What was it?” 

“Water and creamer,” Bucky said. “The creamer wasn’t correct, but the appropriate ingredient was not identified.”

“What were you trying to recreate?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, that’s normal, I guess.” It wasn’t.

Steve found himself heading to the kitchen because he hadn’t had breakfast and was hungry. That’s when he noticed that in that short amount of time, Bucky had finished the whole loaf of bread, the entire bag of potato chips, all the yams, and the big pot of soup. Both of them had quick metabolisms, but that was excessive. Confused, he left without eating breakfast, and Bucky followed.

They sat in silence in the living room as Steve mulled over the morning, and then Natasha and Sam came back. Steve’s stomach growled as he saw they’d gone out for breakfast. Bucky disappeared as soon as they came. 

Steve put on the music and they whispered, “He ate up all the bread, the soup, the chips, and the yams.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully, “They probably starved him before they broke him. He could have other food issues we don’t know about.”

Steve nodded, “He hides food in his bedroom.” Sam paused and then just nodded some more.

“He’s probably afraid we’re going to punish him,” Natasha said, looking in the direction where Bucky had left.

“So what was with the creamer?” Sam asked.

“It was water and creamer,” Steve said. Sam and Natasha stared at him.

“Oh that makes so much sense,” Sam said, shaking his head. “The dude has issues.”

“Wait!” Natasha said, “Whey drink.” Now they looked at her, “Whey drink. I remember someone saying they were almost out and they needed it for the Soldier. It’s a protein drink I think.”

Sam nodded, “One of the first ones. Doesn’t it taste nasty? People add flavorings nowadays.”

Natasha looked at Sam, “You’re talking about someone they called the Asset. I’m sure he drank it plain.”

“Okay, well, now we know,” Sam said.

“Can we keep talking in the kitchen? I’ve yet to have breakfast,” Steve said.

“He may be waiting for punishment,” Natasha said.

Steve sighed and went to talk to Bucky. He found him waiting in his room, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Steve’s stomach growled as he sat down with his friend. “You did fine.” Bucky watched him tensely. “Thanks for putting up with us,” Steve shrugged, “I suppose we seem a little weird.” Bucky said nothing. It was a strained and short conversation. Eventually, Steve couldn’t take it and left.

Later, he returned to Bucky’s room to find him gone. Fighting panic, he looked around. He found Sam reading and kept his voice neutral, “Have you seen Bucky?”

“He’s with Natasha,” Sam said, “Yoga or something.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve said, surprised.

“Natasha said it calms her down,” Sam said. Steve nodded, and Sam went back to his reading, but he was reading the same page over and over.

Steve found them and peeked in. Natasha was utterly relaxed, holding a graceful pose in comfy clothes, and Steve was reminded she had learned ballet in the Red Room. Bucky was standing stiff and awkward, frowning in concentration but mimicking Natasha’s pose as best he could. Bucky was also staring back at Steve, even though Steve hadn’t made a sound. Steve left.

Steve wondered if Bucky’s time with Natasha would relax him as her opening up to him had, but this hope was shattered when after lunch, they had a guest: Shuri. What if she asked for Bucky? How would he take it, and how would she take it?


	9. A Guest

“And how are you all doing?” Shuri asked when Steve, Sam, and Natasha brought out Mandazi donuts as they sat in the living room, “It’s a marvelous day, just perfect for a long walk. There’s a beautiful walking path under the trees by a brook not far from here; have you discovered it yet?” She totally did not notice the strain they were all under. “And where is Sgt. Barnes? He would enjoy a long walk too. Let’s invite him.”

“He’s - not feeling well,” Steve said, his stomach dropping.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Shuri said. “You know I was willing to wait until you saw the need to do it my way, and I can see that there is still one hold out,” she was looking straight at Steve, “But I had to come today because you still haven’t found the missing knives and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

They looked at her, “How did you know…”

“This is what Sam calls a smart house; we had the knives tagged, it was an obvious thing to do. Do you want to know where they are?” Shuri asked, “They aren’t in the kitchen, I can tell you that much.”

Steve still looked mulish, but Sam had had enough, “Bucky has been having dreams for nights now where he relives killing people but thinks they’re dreams. He’s remembered killing Tony’s parents and trying to kill Steve and Natasha.” He frowned, “He hasn’t mentioned me yet.” 

Shuri nodded as if that were to be expected, “And he is acting more and more like the Winter Soldier, correct?”

“He feels horrible about the dreams,” Steve said, “He wants to remember good things in his notebooks, and he doesn’t want to wait around for orders.” He decided not to mention the food issues.

Shuri shook her head, “You are being both stubborn and stupid. It is time to do it my way.” Steve crossed his arms. “My brother has put your friend under my care; we’re going to a village.”

Steve hung his head, admitting defeat before looking up. “Please remember that if Bucky lives in a hut in an isolated village, or one he thinks is isolated, it will only make him tenser.”

Shuri nodded, “You know it will be more than a hut, and it isn’t as isolated as you fear. We will make the food very prominent and available at all times. He won’t go hungry. I would appreciate it if you gave me a list of what food he liked.”

“What, you don’t know already?” Sam asked.

“We don’t pull individual food tastes from the house, that would be an invasion of privacy,” Shuri said.

“Yes, about food,” Steve began.

They all felt Bucky’s presence in the hallway. “Good afternoon, Sgt. Barnes,” Shuri said. “How long have you been listening in?”

“We’re moving out,” Bucky said.

“Wakandans feel that nature is a great healer, I would like to invite you to a beautiful village, a favorite of mine, and not just because it is close to my Design Group. So that you can look it up and decide if this is what you choose to do, the village I propose is Namayeza on Lake Kambizi, five minutes by flyer from Birnin Bashenga, which is to the south of where we are right now, since we are in the capital. While Namayeza has all the peace of a village on a lake, it is also close to a city, which Captain Rogers feels is very important. You will be safe there, because we will be guarded by Dora Milaje, an elite group that guard the royal family, especially the king. We will have a few huts all to ourselves, with a cook and the Dora Milaje, and the villagers will be told to keep their distance until such time as you might be interested in visiting them. However, it is their lake too and they will use the village parts of it, so you might see them from a distance. You can visit them or not, they have their own lives and don’t care either way.” She paused, “There will be no one to hurt, and no one to hurt you. You will have all the time you need to think and sit under leafy trees and stare at the lake, a better version of Romania, and it will be quiet, but you won’t be alone. If you get bored, there is wood to cut and goats and chickens to tend to.” Shuri smiled, “I’d appreciate a few logs for the fire pit at night, myself.”

Bucky looked at her suspiciously, but she waited patiently. “Will it be cold?” 

“It will be whatever temperature you wish in the hut, but you will never be uncomfortable.”

“You said it was nature.”

“The huts will have the same temperature technology as this house, and as for the outside, we are near the equator, but because of our elevation, the daytime is always pleasant, but the nighttime is cool.” She studied Bucky, “The sun is strong and we will give you plenty of sun block, which you’ll need even when it’s cloudy, and there could be rain.” Shuri paused, “It’s your choice whether you stay here or come with me to Namayeza.” 

Bucky looked at her blankly. “You told me to come.”

Shuri shook her head, “I invited you.”

Bucky looked at Steve. “It’s your decision,” Steve said. “I’m fine wherever we go.”

“Actually,” Shuri said, looking at Steve, “My brother may have a war dog assignment for you.”

“What, now?” Steve asked, pointing vaguely at Bucky. Shuri nodded, and Steve looked at Bucky before asking Shuri politely, “Could I speak with you a moment outside?” Shuri nodded, and they left.

When the conversation got a little heated outside, Sam asked Bucky, “What do you think?”

Bucky was trying to listen to the argument. “Steve doesn’t think I can handle it.”

“He has his own issues,” Sam said. 

“What are they saying?” Natasha asked.

Sam answered first, “I think they took it outside for a reason.”

“I can hear them only when people are quiet,” Bucky said, looking meaningfully at Sam.

“Which is why I’m going to keep talking,” Sam said, a little more loudly. “What do you think about all this?”

“The woman said I need time alone. Steve felt she was contradicting herself but I couldn’t hear her answer because we started talking,” Bucky said, still glaring at Sam.

“So you’re still deciding?” Sam asked.

“Steve wants me to stay, the woman wants me to go,” Bucky said. “What’s her name?”

“Shuri,” Sam said, “It’s your call.” Bucky stared at him.

“They’re talking about someone called a Winter Soldier,” Bucky said. “Who the hell is the Winter Soldier?”

Steve and Shuri came in, trying to hide their feelings with tight smiles. 

Shuri spoke, “I will leave now and let you decide.” She made eyes at Steve before she left the room and went to pick up the missing knives. After a long moment, they heard: “I know they have to be right here but I don’t see…. no, not here …. oh, you’re good.”

Shuri gave Natasha the knives, and Natasha walked their guest to the door, “Sorry about Steve,” she whispered. “He means well.”

Shuri smiled, “I know. He needs his own stay in a village, but first Sgt. Barnes needs to find himself.” Natasha nodded. Shuri studied Natasha for a moment, “Would you like to visit Namayeza sometime?”

“Me?” Natasha laughed, “I’m fine.”

“I would invite you all right now, but then you would determine Sgt. Barnes’ schedule in Namayeza, and then when you left, he would continue it; he needs to find his own, even though it will be hard for him at first.”

“This is going to be a difficult decision for him,” Natasha said.

Shuri shook her head, “Not if Captain Rogers does his part.”

When Natasha went back into the living room, Steve was looking at the panther painting, but he was telling Bucky and Sam about the war dog assignment and how important it was to address it now. “It’s just going to get worse,” he said sadly. “And then it will be really difficult.”

Bucky nodded, “So we’re going on this assignment?” 

Steve sighed, glancing at Bucky and then looking back at the panther painting, and glancing back at Bucky only occasionally. “You’ve been through a lot, Buck. It could get nasty, not life-threatening or anything, nothing for you to worry about, and you’ve just gotten those triggers out of your head. You need a little more time to process things. Just a little more time, maybe you can come next time. We’ll be back, it won’t be long, and then we can meet if you’d like… or not meet if you don’t like.” Steve looked like his puppy had just died.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, “You’re just going to leave forever?”

“No, no, not at all,” Steve said, “I just want it to be your decision.”

“I understand,” Bucky said, his voice going flat and his eyes going vacant, “Those dreams, there’s something evil inside me. They’re real.”

“Darn it, Buck, that’s not what I said,” Steve said. “I want to come back as absolutely soon as possible, I just want to make sure you want to put up with me.”

“Am I this Winter Soldier Shuri talked about?” Bucky asked.

“You were never the Winter Soldier,” Steve said. “But HYDRA forced you to act as the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky got a cold look on his face, “I hate HYDRA.”

Steve nodded, “None of us are that thrilled with them either.”

“Will you come back?” Bucky asked.

“I will,” Steve said.

“I tried to kill you,” Bucky said, before looking at Natasha, “And you.” He looked at Sam, “And you.” He paused, “Everyone in this room.”

“It wasn’t you,” Steve said.

Bucky nodded, “I think I need to figure out what happened to me.”

Steve nodded, “You’re in luck, Shuri knows just the place.”


	10. Changes

The next day, Natasha met with Dora Milaje, and Sam went to Step Town, leaving Steve and Bucky alone. “I never showed you the art in the palace,” Steve said.

“Do you want to now?” Bucky asked. Steve wondered if Bucky knew how upset he was when the dark-haired man went all robotic. Was Bucky trying to appear human to please Steve, or was this really what he was feeling? Did he go back and forth between feeling like an automaton and feeling human? Steve didn’t know.

They began walking to the palace, and Steve realized it was the first time Bucky was out of the house since he got there. Steve saw Bucky grow warier and jumpier the more people they saw, and Steve said, “You know, maybe we should do it next time. What if we went back and just had a quiet day?” Bucky had no stated opinion of course, so they went back and sat in the living room, but Bucky’s true opinion showed when he began to doze on the couch. Steve drew for a little bit and then went through messages and paused at the notice that the movies he’d ordered would come in two days; there’d been a delay coming from the States. “That’s a little late,” he said. Bucky started from the couch. “Sorry,” Steve said. “Maybe Shuri will have someone pick up the movies when they come; we’ll be gone.”

“What?” Bucky asked.

“I also read your temporary arm is coming soon.”

“Arm?” Bucky asked, “No. What if it makes me feel…. It’s metal. But I must accept it.”  
Steve sighed, “No, of course you don’t have to take it.” His friend would remain without an arm.

Sam and Natasha managed to come home at the same time, Sam with food and Natasha with tales about the Dora Milaje. Bucky perked up slightly at Natasha’s mention of different fighting styles and followed that conversation with interest.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Steve told Bucky.

“I know.”

“It won’t be for long, so it’s not goodbye, but I wanted to give you something,” Steve said. “I don’t want to force anything on you, but you want to remember things, so I thought I’d help. I haven’t had much time to spend on them but….”

“Steve,” Bucky said, “I’m not dying.”

“Yeah.” Steve said. He handed him a drawing pad without comment.

Bucky opened them up, “Ohhh.” He stared at the first drawing, but he didn’t know what it was. “What is it?”

“It’s Coney Island, we used to go there,” Steve said. “And this is based on a picture of us from an old newsreel, we were laughing because….”

Bucky turned to the next one and paused. Steve smiled, “I found that picture on the Internet.” Three girls in front of a Brooklyn movie theater; Steve was super proud of it.

“Who are they?” Bucky asked, entranced.

“They’re your sisters. This one’s Becca, this is Evie, and this is Georgie.” Bucky stared at them a long time.

Steve paused, “And this is from everyone.” He gave Bucky two black leather notebooks and a colorful package of little stickies to mark pages. Bucky hugged them against himself; he could start writing down his memories again. Bucky didn’t thank Steve or the others, but they didn’t expect him to.

The next morning, they had a quiet breakfast. Steve watched Bucky drink his coffee black one more time. “You know you used to put cream in it.”

Bucky paused in the act of drinking his coffee, and set it down. “I was not aware I could.”

Steve looked at him, “Why wouldn’t you?”

Bucky shrugged, “That’s for people.”

“You’re people too,” Steve said.

Bucky stared at him, “Yeah.” 

Steve made a show of pouring cream into Bucky’s cup, and Bucky took an experimental drink. “Better?” Steve asked.

Bucky’s eyes went wide, “This is amazing. How did you know?” He paid serious attention to every drop of his coffee.

After breakfast, Bucky settled down on the couch with his notebooks, and Steve began to sketch, and Sam was reading a book. Steve sensed an air of frustration come from Bucky, even though he heard nothing, and he looked up to see Bucky struggling with the pen. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked. Sam looked up.

“I can’t make this pen work; it’s as if the nib were broken,” Bucky said, his face fierce in concentration. 

“What?” Sam asked, “Give it to me.” He tried out Bucky’s pen and it wrote just fine, “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Oh,” Steve said, looking over Sam’s shoulder, “No, I get it. They’re all like that now.” All the nibs were tiny and round like that.

“How can you write with such a thing?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve said, “I gave you a modern pen. It’s called a ballpoint, and you have to use more force and hold it differently. Let me show you.” Steve took the pen and showed Bucky how to write with it. Bucky followed along with furrowed brow.

“Dude, you can hijack a helicopter but you can’t write with a pen?” Sam asked. Bucky and Steve gave him a look.

“It’s a stupid pen,” Bucky said. Steve gave him back the pen, and he wrote just like Steve had shown him, but he looked awkward. 

After awhile, Bucky set down the pen, and Steve looked up, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said, but he looked frustrated. 

“Let me get you a real pen.” Steve said, and Bucky waited; Steve gave him two fountain pens with plastic cartridges. “They use these now for refilling the pens.” Steve showed him how to change the cartridges.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, and he went back to writing, looking like a natural. Sam just shook his head.

Then Shuri and Chineye the liaison came, and it was time for Steve, Sam, and Natasha to leave. 

“Take care of yourself, Buck,” Steve said, before they embraced.

Bucky lightly punched Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t take all the stupid with you,” Bucky said, before frowning, “What a dumb thing to say!”

But Steve lit up, “No, it’s perfect.”

Bucky thought about it, “That’s not right… don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

Steve lit up even further, “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

Steve almost left with a smile on his face, but Sam and Natasha were puzzled. “That makes you happy?” Sam asked.

Steve smiled, “Yep.” But his smile turned sad when he nodded his goodbye to Bucky. It was one of the harder things he had to do, but he knew Shuri would take care of him, and he had to trust her on that, even if it meant going to a village somewhere.

Bucky watched them leave with Chineye without expression, and Shuri watched him. “How do you feel, Sgt. Barnes?”

“Feel?” Bucky asked. He searched himself, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”


End file.
